The Lines in the Mirror
by brielle23
Summary: A down and out Harry visits an escort service in hopes that it will help him feel again--but he ends up getting a little more than he bargained for. Compliant through DH, minus the epilogue. Slash HP/DM Mature content!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any part of his world. **Sighs** I really wish I did. Book 8 would have been called _Harry Potter and his Harem of Men._ Or something else that involved a lot of man-sex.**

**Warning: If you do not like foul language or man-sex, please go elsewhere :)**

**P.S.- I am sooo happy to be starting a new story! My last story was becoming tedious work! I hope you enjoy this one though. Pretty please review!**

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_You've never seen death? Look in the mirror every day and you will see it like bees working in a glass hive ~ Jean Cocteau_

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Harry stared warily at the stranger in front of him, memorizing every aspect of the man, because that was what Harry was trained to do. He observed people, their looks, their mannerisms, their way of speaking. It was a useful tool in his field, and one he found himself relying on even outside of work. Because after all, regardless of what anyone says, you can tell a lot about a person by their appearance. And the man standing in front of Harry was no exception.

The stranger had pallid, chalky skin that stretched taut across his almost-too-thin frame, making him appear ragged and beaten down. His matted black hair looked unwashed, unbrushed, un-everything, showing just how little he cared about his appearance. And his eyes, which were dull and lifeless, never held Harry's gaze for more than a second or two at a time, preferring to fixate themselves on an empty corner, or more often, the floor.

Harry processed these things in his mind and began building a mental profile of the stranger, because that was also what he was trained to do. After a moment, he could deduce that the man was employed and that he threw himself into his work 100%, not because he loved his job, but because he had nothing to go home to. The stranger was single, had little or no family to speak of, and as a result of his short-comings in these areas, he had closed himself off to the world nearly completely. He rarely looked people in the eyes and hated being looked at even more. In short, he was a loner.

Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for the man in front of him. No one deserved that kind of lonely, ungratifying existence. It was a shame really. But more than that, perhaps part of the reason Harry felt so sorry for the man was because he reminded Harry of himself. Hell, he even looked a lot like Harry. He had the same color hair, same color eyes. Harry swore that if he brushed aside the lock of messy hair covering the man's forehead, it would reveal a lightening shaped scar.

So Harry narrowed his eyes and inched closer to the glass through which he was viewing the stranger. And even though the glass was cracked and clouding around the edges, the resemblance was easy to see. The stranger could have been Harry's twin, his rougher, dirtier, more pathetic twin. And the more he thought about it, the more Harry realized how true that was—because mirrors don't lie.

And because mirrors don't lie and because the truth hurts, Harry picked up a stone door-stopper from his bathroom floor and hurled it at the stranger in front of him. The mirror shattered into a million tiny pieces, littering the porcelain sink and tile floor with jagged shards of truth.

And when Harry got closer and realized the one stranger was now replaced by hundreds and hundreds of tiny strangers staring back at him, he took out his wand and obliterated every last piece of glass until they were nothing more than a pile of dust.

Then he slid down the wall, his head in his hands and he cried, his sobs echoing loudly in the tiny bathroom that was almost as empty as he was.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco stared at the dirty mirror below him, trying to get a good look at himself through the smudges and lines that littered its surface. He was still beautiful, of course, nothing could ever take that away from him, but he looked tired. His eyes were rimmed red from many sleepless nights, his lips chapped from countless evenings in the cold. But as a whole, he was still in tact.

Draco decided to clean off the mirror so he could better admire himself. So one by one, he snorted the lines that had dirtied the mirror's surface, until his face shone back at him clearly, perfect and in all of its glory, despite the crystalline trail that dusted his upper lip.

Draco leaned back and closed his eyes, thankful that at least his looks were still perfect.

Draco's beauty was all he had left after the war. His parents were in jail, the Malfoy estate, seized. He had no place to live, no food to eat, and was running out of options fast. So he decided to use the one resource that he still had left, his body. And with one as glorious as his, he was certain people would pay top dollar to have a piece of it.

So in the end, Draco looked at the situation like the business man he had been groomed to become. He reasoned that it would be absurd to waste such a potentially lucrative asset, and he opted to put it to work forthwith, that same night in fact.

Draco had started small, and for fear that someone he knew would discover him, he only worked muggle areas and he only went out two or three nights a week. But when he did go out, he would traipse aimlessly along the seedier streets of London, accepting proposition after proposition after proposition. The muggles couldn't keep their hands off of him, and rightfully so. He was beautiful, and for a price he was willing. What more could someone ask for?

On good nights, he would have as many five or six clients; on great nights, closer to ten. They would pay him ludicrous amounts of money for his company, sometimes buying him for an entire evening, sometimes only wanting him for ten minutes, but Draco didn't mind. Money was money and he enjoyed the variety offered to him by accepting long dates and short dates alike, because deep down, he enjoyed all aspects of his job.

He didn't mind being a pretty accessory on someone's arm at a charity event; he didn't mind getting paid to listen to someone's family problems; and he certainly didn't mind getting paid to fuck. Fucking was his favorite past-time, and he had become a master at it, being able to get a good shag out of almost any partner.

If someone was nervous and unsure, he easily slid into the driver's seat and took control. If someone was more the dominant type, Draco had no problem giving them the reigns and letting them have their way with him. And if someone was a freak in bed, well he didn't mind that either. The way he figured, variety was the spice of life.

So for several months, Draco kept doing what he did best, and made loads of money in the process.

But the party couldn't last forever, and much to Draco's dismay, the London police began patrolling the "red light districts" regularly in an attempt to cut down on prostitution and drugs in the area. Clients that had been regulars were disappearing left and right and the streets that were once filled with drunken businessmen and horny party-goers were empty, everyone scared off by the government's threats of harsh punishments and public ridicule for those that were caught soliciting.

And after a while, Draco was lucky to get three or four dates a week, barely giving him enough money to live, especially with the nasty muggle coke habit he had developed--thanks to one of his regulars.

His drug supplier used to accept sexual favors for the merchandise, typically using Draco's ass for 15 or 20 minutes and giving him a gram or so of coke in return, which Draco thought was quite fair. But unfortunately because of the new police presence in the area, his supplier's business was also suffering, forcing him to adopt a "cash only" policy for his wares--and his wares were expensive.

So between the drugs and the absurd amount of money Draco had been paying for his luxurious flat, he had no money saved and was flat broke. He barely ate, he was about to be evicted; his life was going down the toilet, and quickly.

But that was when he met Baron.

Draco had been working a particularly slimy London street corner, practically throwing himself on anyone that walked by. He hadn't eaten in more than a day and it had been almost 6 hours since he last nourished his other hunger; he was desparate. It was quickly approaching 4am and he had yet to have a date. He was just about ready to call it a night when a man suddenly approached him with his hand extended. Draco instinctively began to reach for his wand.

"Baron Dunlevy," the man said taking Draco's hand and enveloping it in a firm handshake.

"Collin Alverston," Draco lied smoothly. "Can I help you?"

"Actually, I think you can," Baron said smiling.

Draco looked at the man skeptically. He seemed non-threatening enough, friendly even; and he was certainly good looking. He had smooth, caramel-colored skin that glowed luminescently, even under the dim street lights, and black, shaggy hair Draco was sure had been carefully arranged to get the "I don't care about my hair," messy look. And his eyes--his eyes were so dark they looked black, which normally might have been off-putting, but they had a certain endearing, sparkle to them. Draco tried his hardest not to stare.

"So how can I help you?" Draco asked, gently trailing his fingers up and down the man's arm.

Baron smiled. "Well, I guess it's so much how you can help me...It's how I can help you." He paused a moment and then continued. "Business has been slow, I presume?"

Draco didn't answer. Instead he took a step back, narrowing his eyes at the stranger like he was trying to see him more clearly.

"I'll take that as a yes," Baron continued. "Well I think I can help."

"I don't need anyone's help," Draco scoffed. He turned and stalked away, his fingernails digging into his palms as he balled his fists in frustration. He didn't know what the guy was playing at. _Draco Malfoy_certainly didn't need anybody's help, not that Baron, some simple muggle, had any idea the weight the name Malfoy used to carry. Hell, he didn't even know that was Draco's real name. But even so, Draco couldn't help but feel pissed off anyway. Did he look like he needed people's charity?

Draco turned down his street, his stomach grumbling with hunger as he got closer to his flat. He figured he would try to go to bed right away--perhaps he could sleep off his hunger for the evening and start fresh again the following day.

As Draco reached his stoop, he dug through his bag in search of his keys when a sudden noise startled him. He whipped around, his fingers poised on the wand in his front pocket.

"One hundred galleons for an hour of your time." Baron was leaning casually the stoop's handrail.

"Wha--I--You followed me home?" Draco asked incredulously. "How did you--I didn't see you...Where did you come from?"

"You can take your hand off your wand _Collin_. If I wanted to harm you I would have done it already."

Draco began panicking. Who was this guy? He knew Draco had a wand. He seemed to know his name wasn't Collin. Draco had gone months without anyone truly knowing his identity, so who was this guy that suddenly came out of nowhere?

Baron stepped up on the stoop so he was just inches away from Draco. "300 galleons for an hour of your time. And I promise, if what I have to say doesn't interest you, I will leave you alone."

As if on cue, Draco's stomach began rumbling with hunger again. He thought about the proposition. What was the worst that could come of it? If the guy was trying to trick him, Draco was confident in his defensive skills and was sure he'd be able to finish Baron off. And that was only the worst case scenario; the best case scenario, Draco would listen to whatever spiel the man had to offer, and then would have 300 galleons to get food and coke, and maybe even have a little money left over to put towards rent. What did he have to lose?

"Okay," Draco said holding out his hand. "300 galleons it is."

Baron dug around in his pockets and retrieved a maroon, drawstring pouch. He dug deep, producing gold coin after gold coin, counting each one of them out in Draco's palm. When he finally reached 300, Draco smiled and unlocked his door.

"Come on in," he said gesturing the man in.

Baron stepped inside, taking a moment to admire the luxe sitting room before sitting on a plush leather couch on the far wall. Without a word, he pulled out an Italian leather wallet from his pocket, his fingers nimbly retrieving a lavender and gold business card. He handed the card to Draco before relaxing back on the couch.

Draco turned the card over in his hand and read the delicate scroll on the front:

_Magical Amity_

_Baron Dunlevy  
Agent_

_Procurer of Social and Copulative Talent for Over 15 Years_

"So you're a glorified pimp," Draco said crossly.

Baron smiled widely, folding his hands in his lap. "I prefer to think of myself as a talent agent, Mr. Malfoy. But for all intents and purposes, yes, I guess you could say that."

Draco stiffened. "It's Mr. Alverston. You must have me mistaken for someone else."

"Please Mr. Malfoy. Do you think there is one person in the wizarding world that doesn't know who you are after your parents' trials? There is no need to pretend. You're secret is safe with me." He gave an exaggerated wink.

Draco's mouth went dry. Someone had found him. He quickly began running over options in his head. He could perhaps perform a quick memory charm on the man and then dump him out on the street—but that would be too risky. Memory charms could be detected. He could just kill the man. But again, he would run the risk of getting caught. And besides, he had managed to go his entire life without uttering the words _Avada Kedavra_; he really didn't want to start using them now.

In short, he was screwed.

"Relax," Baron soothed. "It doesn't matter to me _who _you are--it matters what you can do. And from what I understand, you are quite the talented young man, Draco. With the proper support system, you could be rich."

"You mean, if I let you pimp me out? No thank you; I do fine on my own."

"Hear me out first," Baron said. "And if you don't like what you hear, I will leave you alone."

Draco thought a moment. He doubted Baron could offer him anything that would entice him to enter his employ, but just listening wouldn't hurt. "Okay," Draco said firmly. "You have ten minutes."

"Great."

Baron began by outlining the advantages of working in a structured environment, like his. You didn't have to trounce around the streets looking for prospects; clients came to you. You didn't have to worry about trying to find a place to bring your clients; all employees were housed on-site, and therefore had a bedroom readily available.

Agents did get a 25% cut, but with minimum house rates in effect, employees still ended up making more than they did when they worked on their own.

"And," Baron added, "not only is your room and board included, but we include some other…_amenities_. We like to ensure that our employees are always having a good time, so in the evenings we have an open bar and we also provide other, shall we say, recreational items."

Draco leaned back in his chair and began absent-mindedly drumming his fingers. Baron's offer seemed too good to be true. And over the years he had learned that if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was.

"So you're saying that I won't have to pay rent, I won't have to pay for coke, and I'll still make loads of money in the process?" Draco asked skeptically.

"Exactly." Baron dug through his pocket and produced a baggie with an 8-ball coke in it. "Sample?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. And although his body ached for the stuff, some part of him didn't trust the man in front of him. "You think I am going to take something from some random stranger?"

"Suit yourself," Baron said as he dumped a little on the table and arranged it into a neat line. He rolled a muggle bill into a straw, bent over and snorted the line in one clean movement. "Are you sure?" Baron asked holding the bag out to Draco. "One line won't kill you."

"Fine, just one," Draco huffed, defeated. He grabbed the bag, carefully arranged a line for himself, and then snorted it. Leaning back against the plush chair, he closed his eyes and waited for the drug to kick in.

He didn't have to wait long.

Within moments that old, familiar feeling began to wash over him. It coursed through his body, warming his veins with its delicious heat and melting his insides until he was nothing more than a big, tingling pile of mush.

It only had been a matter of hours since he had done coke last, but suddenly it felt like he was doing it for the first time. The high was more intense, more consuming than any other he had ever experienced.

"What is this?" Draco muttered as he willed his gelatinous body to sit up and snort another line.

"Only the best for our employees."

Draco managed to snort another five lines before collapsing back on the couch, a numb, euphoric mess. He drifted in and out of consciousness for what had to have been hours. Sometimes he'd get up and pace the room for a while; sometimes he'd just stare at the ceiling in a blissful daze. But regardless of what he did, Baron just sat there and watched him.

And when Draco had settled down on the couch for the last time, curling himself up into a ball and pulling a blanket up to his chin, Baron got up to leave.

"I'm heading out," Baron said as he gathered his things. "Just one quick thing before I go though."

"Sure," Draco mumbled in his half-asleep state.

"I just need you to sign this paper, you know, saying you want to work for me. Then I can send a car for you in the morning. Sound good?"

"Yeah, sure," he yawned lazily as he scribbled his signature on the long roll of parchment and drifted off to sleep.

The following morning Draco remembered very little of the previous night's conversation, and was shocked when a car arrived at 10am to pick him up and bring him to "work."

"I didn't agree to this," he yelled at the two goons that were trying to force him into the car.

"You did," one said as he unrolled a scroll with Draco's signature at the bottom. "Now come quietly or we will be compelled to use force."

Draco eventually did go with them, assuming he would be able to clear up the whole mess and go home.

But that didn't happen.

Instead he was forced to stay there, bound by magical contract to reside in that hell of place until someone bought him. And with the steep price of 40,000 galleons over his head, he didn't see that happening any time soon.

He was allowed one meal a day, was forced to fuck whoever wanted to fuck him, but worst of all, he wasn't allowed to have his wand. Baron had taken it the moment he stepped foot in that wretched house.

Draco pulled his knees to his chest, damning himself for the the millionth time for being so stupid. If he had just ignored Baron when he first came to talk to him, if he hadn't done any of that fucked-up coke, if he hadn't had signed that damn contract, he wouldn't be in the miserable mess he was in now.

Draco grabbed the mirror he had been admiring himself in, spit on his reflection, and hurled it across the room.

Yeah, at least he was still beautiful.

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Harry took one last swig of his fire whiskey, relishing the way the smooth liquid burned his throat. His head swam with a pleasant, drunken warmth, which was exactly what he needed. The fewer the inhibitions the better.

What he was about to do went against his nature. He didn't break the law; he didn't have one night stands; and he certainly didn't pay people for sex.

But that was before--before his life was miserable, before he was lonely, before he felt dead inside. And this new, desperate Harry would do anything it took just to feel.

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**A/N: Please let me know what you think of the new story so far. I know it's kind of a lot of background info in this chapter, but I swear next chapter gets fun! So pretty, pretty please review! Reviews totally brighten my day :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any part of his world. If I did, there would have been a smart, sophisticated witch named Brielle that banged all of the delicious straight boys at Hogwarts, and had threesomes with the even more delectable less-than-straight boys.  
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**Warning: If you do not like foul language or gay boys, then you should probably leave you F#%!&$g d#$%!!! :)**

**P.S.-I am digging writing this story! Third person is way more kind to me than first! But I did want to say, even though this is written in third person, I do sort of jump back and forth between Harry's and Draco's point of view. It shouldn't be hard to follow. Anyway, here is Chapter 2! Pretty please review--I like getting your feedback!

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Harry stumbled drunkenly towards the building he had visited countless times before. The first time he had been there, it had been for work. His department had received a tip that a prostitution ring was being ran out of large Victorian on the edge of town. And with not much else going on at the time, Harry had been sent to investigate.

But much to his captain's dismay, he hadn't been able to prove anything. He had met with the business' owner, a handsome man by the name of Baron. Baron explained that he ran a company that provided companionship, nothing more, nothing less, likening it to muggle businesses that provided the elderly with part-time companions--someone to play cards with, someone to help them buy groceries. The difference being, that his business operated under the policy that people of all ages sometimes needed a friend.

Harry of course knew the man had been full of shit. But interviews with employees and even with a few clients left him with no leads, no information that indicated otherwise, so he was forced to certify the claim as unfounded.

Yet, that was only the first of many visits.

In the months to come, he visited several more times--not on official business, but on his own accord. The lonelier his life became and the more down he felt, the more frequently he would go there. He would walk by when he got off of work and stand outside of the looming building, willing himself to go inside. But he could never quite muster the guts to do it--until now that is.

Harry reached into his pocket, producing a small flask, and took another swig of his Fire Whiskey, desperately trying to sustain the mind-numbing high he was currently on. _Well, here goes nothing_, he thought to himself.

He climbed the row of marble stairs, nearly turning around several times, before reaching the stoop. He wrapped his fingers around the iron door knocker, but before he could clap it, the door swung open.

Baron stood in the doorway, a knowing smirk on his face. "I knew I'd be seeing you again Mr. Potter."

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Draco woke to the high-pitched squealing of the house bell; it was time for a line-up. He begrudgingly pulled himself out of bed, quickly flattening his hair in front of the mirror. On any other day, he would have primped himself, brushed his hair, washed his face, put on some cologne maybe--anything to make himself even more appealing to the clients. But at the moment he didn't care, so he went downstairs.

Nearly everyone was already there when he arrived. He took his usual spot in line, third from the end, and waited patiently for the john to arrive.

Draco tapped his foot nervously, hoping upon all hope that the john picked someone else for a date. But he knew that probably wouldn't happen. He was by far the best looking man the house had, and the most talented, if he did say so himself, and word of his abilities had spread quickly.

Just as he did on the streets, Draco now had regulars at the house, and those regulars frequently referred friends to him. Then those friends, more often than not became regulars themselves, perpetuating the cycle. And with all of the referrals, Draco had become the most popular escort Baron's business had ever seen, which meant he was having a lot of sex, and that part was actually okay with him.

He typically didn't mind his work, he just hated the circumstances under which he had to perform. When Baron had tricked Draco to come work for him, he had told Draco that he would make loads of money, which was actually true; Draco had a big wad of cash stored under his mattress that attested to that. However, that money did him little good when he was practically being held prisoner.

Employees weren't allowed to leave the house; they weren't allowed owls; they weren't allowed the Prophet; they weren't even allowed to make floo calls. They were forced to stay holed up in that house, 24/7, their only contact with the outside world being the johns that paid to have sex with them. But unfortunately, chatting about current events and whining about wanting to get out weren't exactly typical pillow-talk conversations.

So Draco plugged along, kept his mouth shut, and fucked who he was told to fuck. He showed the johns a good time, sweet talking them and giving them whatever they wanted in hopes that one of them might enjoy his company enough to pay his 'dowry'.

But this night, he just wasn't up for it. He had gone weeks without a break, having at least three clients every single day. He felt he could use the reprieve, no matter how short it might be.

The door suddenly clicked open and Baron walked through, the john trailing behind him. All of the other escorts quickly straightened up and put on their best 'come hither' faces. Draco kept his eyes forward, doing anything he could _not_ to draw attention to himself. He refused to make eye contact with the john; he didn't even look at him when the other escorts gasped, and when Ogden, the escort next to him began elbowing him in the ribs saying "Oh, my god Drake, look who it is," he didn't give in; he didn't move a muscle.

Baron and the mystery man made their way down the line, each escort throwing themselves at the john with more fervor than the last. And when the two men reached Ogden, Draco froze in place. He knew that voice.

"Well yerrr cute," the john slurred. Ogden puffed his chest out, proud as a peacock. "But...ooohh," he said turning to Draco. "Aren't you pretty?"

The distinct smell of Fire Whiskey wafted to Draco's nostrils and he scrunched his face at the cloying scent. The john leaned in closer, Draco stiffening as the man's fingers began tracing lines over his face.

"You look like someone I used to know," the drunken man murmured.

Draco finally turned towards the man to see if he indeed recognized him. And when he did look, his eyes locked with familiar orbs of deep emerald; Shit, he knew those eyes. His gaze traveled further up and confirmed his suspicions; barely visible under the john's fringe of messy locks, was a lightening shaped scar.

Harry Potter. Of all the people in the world, who should happen to trounce into his own personal hell but Harry Fucking Potter.

Draco pulled away from Harry's touch, shocked that the wizarding world's golden boy would come to such a filthy hell-hole, and embarrassed that the filthy hell-hole was his place of employment.

Harry stumbled a little as he turned to Baron. "I want himmm," he slurred, wrapping his arm around Draco's shoulder.

"Great," Baron smiled. "Drake will take you to his room and the two of you can negotiate a price."

"Haha…Drake," he laughed. "Thas funny…The person I used to know was named Drake-ohhh!"

Draco shook his head at his luck. Of course he would be picked for a date tonight—and of course the person that picked him would be Harry Potter. _Why wouldn't that happen?_

The only silver lining in the whole situation was that Harry was obviously three sheets to the wind. If Draco could just do his job and get it over with quickly, perhaps he could get Harry out of the house before he sobered up and realized exactly who he was fucking.

"Follow me," Draco said quietly as he grabbed Harry's hand and led him to his room.

When they stepped inside, Harry jumped onto Draco's bed, sprawling himself out on the smooth, satin sheets. "This is niiicce," he cooed sloppily.

"I usually get at least one-hundred galleons an hour," Draco said impatiently, ready to get the show on the road. "That's the base rate. Freaky shit is extra...usually an additional fifty galleons an hour, depending. And if you enjoy yourself, I do expect a tip." And although he was really in no position to do so, Draco folded his arms haughtily.

Harry looked up at him, a goofy smile plastered on his face. He dug through his pockets and threw handful after handful of money on the bed. "Will that get me the whole night with you," he asked trying to sound seductive.

Draco eyeballed the money, doing his best to estimate how much was there. There had to have been at least fifteen-hundred galleons strewn about on the bed. And as much as he would love to turn down Harry Potter and send him away with his tail between his legs, Draco couldn't do it. No matter how you slice it, fifteen-hundred galleons is a lot of money.

"That will give you til 8am," Draco said collecting scattered coins. "But don't try anything funny."

Draco finished collecting the money, placed it in a tin on his dresser, and took a seat on the bed next to Harry. His heart sped up. Could he really go through with this? Could he actually fuck Harry Potter—Harry Potter, the golden boy he had spent a large portion of his life trying to make miserable? He wasn't sure.

But the rational part of him said that it was his job--it's what he gets paid to do. Fucking someone, no matter who it was, should be no big deal at this point. And besides, no sex equals no money—and he could certainly use the cash. The more he had in his 'freedom fund,' the easier things would be when he did finally get away from Baron.

Draco breathed deeply, trying to mentally prepare himself for the task at hand. He would go through with it and he would do it with a smile on his face, no matter how much it killed him. He was a Malfoy after all; he was trained to remain calm and unaffected, even in the direst of situations.

"So…what would you like to do?"Draco asked tentatively.

Harry rolled over and looked at him, suddenly grabbing Draco's hair and pulling him down into a kiss.

Draco was taken aback by Harry's brazen behavior, not expecting him to be so forward, even after imbibing on what smelled like all of England's Fire Whiskey. Draco expected him to want to talk first, perhaps 'get to know each other' a little before taking things further. But obviously the Gryffindor golden boy was a little randier, and perhaps even a little sluttier than he had thought.

So Draco went along with the kiss, actually rather enjoying it, despite the spicy flavor of whiskey that enveloped his tongue. The kiss was soft, supple, passionate and Harry's lips molded perfectly to his each time they pressed together.

It was…surprising. And although Draco hated to admit it, he had to hand it to Potter, drunk or not, he certainly knew what he was doing in the kissing department.

XXXXXXXX

Harry pulled the escort closer to him and deepened their kisses, tracing his tongue around the man's pillowy lips. They were so soft, so delicious, he absolutely had to taste every bit of them. So he grabbed the man's bottom lip between his teeth and pulled, nibbling on the plump flesh as he sucked it into his mouth. The blonde groaned in response.

It wasn't something Harry would normally do, but he just couldn't help himself. He didn't know what had gotten into him. He hadn't felt such a spark, such chemistry with someone in ages, and he just wanted to ravage the man, taste every part of his body, touch every bit of his skin. But then again, it had been a while since he had been with someone; perhaps he had just forgotten how amazing it felt.

But regardless, Harry couldn't take it any longer. He reached over and quickly began undressing the man before him, shocking even himself with his take-charge attitude. And when every piece of the escort's clothing was cast aside, Harry leaned back to admire the man before him. He was stunning. More than that, he was breathtakingly beautiful. Harry had never seen anyone so perfect in all of his life.

He had the physique of a god--smooth, defined chest, taut, slightly muscled stomach, those mouth-watering 'man dents' that led down to one of the most impressive cocks Harry had even seen. But more than that, the man had the face of an angel--flaxen hair, eyes of silvery-grey, flawless, porcelain skin and full, pouty lips.

The escort was so stunning, Harry's head started to spin. A drunken feeling, even stronger than the one provided to him by the Fire Whiskey, washed over him and he suddenly felt powerless, like he would do anything for the beautiful creature in front of him. He was enamored.

Only a small part of him dwelled on the fact that the escort looked alarmingly like Draco Malfoy. Perhaps that was something he could try to straighten out later on his therapists couch, if he actually went to see her, that is. For now though, he didn't care if the escort looked like Lord Voldemort himself, he just knew he wanted to fuck him.

So Harry moved quickly, stripping off his clothes as he continued swirling his tongue with the beautiful blonde's. The escort moaned loudly against him, his head lolling back in pleasure. Harry took that as the green light and rolled over so he was hovering over the man's pale frame. He ran his fingers down the man's chest, his stomach, exploring every inch of him with his fingertips, the escort's skin goose-pimpling in response.

Not being able to stand it any longer, Harry pushed the man's legs over his head and positioned his cock at his entrance.

"You didn't pay me enough for that," the escort snapped. "I top--take it or leave it."

Normally Harry would have argued, told the escort he absolutely _did_ pay enough money for that, but he was too aroused to form the words. Instead he rolled over on his back and obediently held his legs back.

The escort reached into his nightstand, producing a bottle of lubricant, and squirted some on Harry's entrance. Then in one, swift motion, he pressed against Harry's ass and pushed in until his dick was fully sheathed.

Harry groaned in response, forgetting how amazing it had felt to be filled with cock. He began grinding his hips, moving his ass up and down the escort's shaft. And within moments, he was ready to come.

The escort reached down, stroking Harry's cock in time with his thrusts. Harry felt the familiar feeling building inside of him and he rode the escort's dick harder and harder, bearing down on him one last time before spraying his abdomen with his own warm, sticky liquid.

And just moments later, the escort came too, filling Harry to the brim with his come. Harry rolled over, more satisfied than he had felt in ages, and fell asleep.

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**A/N: Pretty please review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make money off of these characters. If I did though, I would reinvest my money and buy Draco for the night :)**

**Warning: If you do not like foul language or gay boys having sexy-time, please go elsewhere.**

**P.S.-Hey folks! Sorry it's been a while. Our computer died--she is currently sitting somewhere in a Best Buy facility waiting to be gutted and stuffed with a new motherboard. Then on top of that, we totally got internet privileges yanked at work...hehe...not that I ever wrote when I was there or anything. So to get by, I have been using my boyfriend's really really old laptop. It is the slowest hunk of junk I have ever encountered! So I will warn you, my final chapter of Picking Up the Pieces might be another few days because of this :( Grr...can't wait to have my baby back!**

**Anyway, here is Chapter Three! Please let me know what you guys think :)**

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Draco breathed raggedly, his damp skin sticking to the silky sheets below him. He had been laying in the same spot for almost two hours, motionless, as to not wake the slumbering man next to him. Even as his skin clammed with moisture and his forehead glistened with sweat, he didn't dare attempt to extract himself from the man's sweltering embrace. After all, the sooner he woke up, the sooner Harry would realize exactly what, or who for that matter, he had just done. And to be honest, Draco just wasn't ready for a tongue-lashing.

He could only imagine the Chosen One's anger when he realized he had spent his evening getting plowed by his former nemesis; the disgust he would feel when he realized it was a Slytherin he had been clutching all night like his favorite teddy bear. He would be upset, angry, humiliated, and more than likely, he would storm out of the place, never to be seen again.

And Draco wouldn't blame him. He would certainly have the same reaction if the situation were reversed, but his heart sank regardless. Harry had drunkenly stumbled into Draco's world and reminded him of the life he used to have--The life he had before he got tangled up in sex, drugs and Baron. What he wouldn't do to go back to his days at Hogwart's and start all over again.

But as he laid there, other thoughts began materializing inside his head--thoughts also brought on by the former Gryffindor. They were flashes from just hours before--visions of Harry forcefully pulling him into a mind-blowing kiss, visions of Harry ripping his clothes from his body and casting the garments aside like useless trash.

Draco had been shocked by Potter's brassy behavior, but that's not to say he didn't enjoy it. If fact, he was pleasantly surprised by the man. From Harry's magnificent body, to his take-control attitude, everything about him was the complete opposite of what Draco had anticipated. It was a side he had never expected of Harry, and although it pained him to say it, it was a side he definitely enjoyed.

In fact, he had found he enjoyed a lot about the man. Potter, surprisingly, was gorgeous. He had a beautiful body, all sinewy muscles and bronzed skin. His eyes were a deep shade of green that rivaled the most beautiful of emeralds and his hair was coal black and wavy, with just enough tousle to play up his boyish good looks. He was truly one of the most amazing specimens Draco had seen in a while.

And on top of all of that, Harry had _felt_ amazing too. He was so tight, so delicious. Draco's cock began to instantly harden as he remembered just how much he enjoyed being inside of the brunette wizard--how much he wouldn't mind being inside of him again.

Draco slowly lowered his hand, doing his best not to jostle Harry, and let it come to rest on his dick. Perhaps he could just stroke it a little, take some of the edge off while Harry was asleep. What harm could that do?

But just as Draco got a smooth, steady rhythm going, Harry began to stir. Draco yanked his hand from under the sheets and rested it under his head, feigning sleep. He was afraid of Harry's reaction as it was; he certainly didn't need to make the situation any more awkward than it already was.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry could feel himself starting to wake from his blissful slumber, though he tried his hardest not to. He wanted to stay wrapped up in his beautiful dream forever, but more importantly, he never wanted to leave warm embrace of the nameless, faceless man whose strong arms made him feel so safe, so secure. Harry hadn't felt that at peace, that happy in ages, and it killed him to know that that feeling would be ending shortly.

And as if on cue, his eyes unwillingly fluttered open and reality came crashing down on him like a ton of bricks. He wasn't in his bed, cuddling with the love of his life; he was at a whore house, his arms tangled around some man whose company he had to pay for. There was no one there that loved him, no one there that cared. He was truly alone, despite the sleeping body next to him.

And even though the situation left him feeling emptier than he had when he first walked into Baron's, he had to look on the bright side of things; at least he had gotten a good shag for his money. The night wasn't a complete waste.

He couldn't remember too many specifics, but he knew he had thoroughly enjoyed himself. The escort was gorgeous; white-blond hair, pale skin, silver eyes, not to mention a cock to die for. It was long and thick and Harry remembered how easily it had hit all of the right spots. He came so quickly, in fact, he came quicker than he ever had before. Even through the Fire Whiskey-induced fog, he could say it was one of the most amazing shags of his life, one he wouldn't mind reliving over and over again.

Harry closed his eyes and began picturing the previous night again in his head, the parts he remembered at least. It played like a warped videotape; some parts were perfectly clear, showing every little detail Harry wanted to see. Other parts however, were cloudy around the edges or had white spots covering littering the frame. Some scenes were wiped-out altogether, like they had never even existed.

But despite the incomplete footage, Harry's dick began stiffening, getting harder still as he realized they had plenty of time to create another, more complete reel.

Perhaps he could get another quick shag in? After all, Harry spent a lot of money on the escort; he should try to get every penny's worth out of the man. There was nothing wrong with that, was there?

Harry didn't think so, so he acted on his impulses. He snuggled up to the escort's back, warm flesh pressed against warm flesh. A light sheen of sweat covered the man's skin and Harry tasted it's salty, sweetness on his tongue as it careened down the escort's neck, his shoulders, his back.

Harry's cock began to stir, aching to be touched, aching for release. He pressed it firmly against the man's unclothed ass, hoping to draw some sort of reaction from him, but much to his dismay, he got nothing.

The escort just laid there unmoving, fast asleep. But Harry wouldn't have that.

So Harry upped his game, trailing his hands down the escort's body, down his smooth chest, his muscled stomach, and wrapped his fingers around the man's thick, and surprisingly hard, cock. Harry began pumping his hand slowly, his other hand snaking down and playing with the escort's balls. After working diligently for a few moments, a small moan escaped the blonde's lips and Harry took that as the green light to continue.

Harry pushed himself up, his head swimming drunkenly with lust. He gently coaxed the escort on to his stomach and then began feeling around for his wand. When he located it on the night stand, he pointed it at the man's entrance and muttered a quick lubrication charm under his breath. And when the man's ass was good and slickened, Harry knelt on the bed, positioning himself at the escort's backside.

Harry's pulse quickened, his breath hitched in anticipation. It had been ages since he had been inside someone, months, years even since someone had given themselves up to him so completely. In fact, in his entire life he had only actually fucked two people, and he was aching to do it again.

The first person he had fucked was Ginny, his first real girlfriend, the girl everyone thought he would spend the rest of his life with. That was, until he and his mates had a "guy's night out" and he got shit-faced and made out with some random guy in the middle of a pub. That was when he realized that he was gay and also when Ron started resenting him for ruining his sister's life.

The only other person that had ever allowed him to top was his ex Sean. He dated Sean for two years and really, truly thought that they were meant for each other. But then, just as everyone else in his life did, Sean up and left Harry. There was no note, no explanation. Harry just got home one day and Sean was gone.

After that, Harry had a string of meaningless relationships and one-night-stands. He slept with a good twenty or thirty people, but not once did anyone bottom for him. No, they all insisted on topping. They all wanted a piece of Harry Potter--the most intimate piece of him they could get. They wanted to be able to brag to their friends about bedding the Chosen One, gloat about how he writhed beneath them and begged for their cocks. They all wanted that and nothing more. And Harry knew it.

But topping gave him some small sense of power back. He wasn't a piece of meat, after all; he was the savior of the wizarding world and he deserved to be treated as so. If Harry Potter wanted to top once in a while, he should be allowed to.

So Harry gripped the escort's hips firmly and began to push against his ass. But before he could cross the escort's tight threshold, he was thrown back.

"You didn't pay me enough for that shit!" the escort roared as he hopped up off the bed.

Harry felt his face blanch. The words echoed through his head and somewhere deep in the confines of his hung-over mind, he remembered hearing those words just hours before.

"I already made that very clear, in case you don't recall," the escort grumbled angrily.

Harry hadn't recalled until just then, but what did it matter? He paid good money for the escort, he should be able to do with him as he saw fit. "And how much more money would you like me to pay," Harry spat as he scooted across the floor blindly. "Because if you ask me, I gave you way too much as it is!"

"Ha...You couldn't pay me enough to bottom for you, Potter," the escort drawled haughtily.

A lump caught in Harry's throat and his heart began beating wildly. It pounded louder and faster and reverberated in his ears with deafening _thumps._ He knew that voice. But it couldn't be, could it? He knew he had bad luck, but would fate really play such a cruel trick on him? He hoped not.

Harry scrambled back to the nightstand and frantically felt around for his glasses. As he was searching, he could hear the other person in the room move about calmly. The man's blurred outline bent down and picked up some stray items from the floor. Then he rifled through a few dresser drawers before taking a seat at the table near the window.

Harry found his glasses and quickly wiped away the smudges on a discarded shirt. He paused before putting them on, part of him wanting to confirm his suspicions, the other part of him afraid to. After all, sometimes ignorance is bliss.

But he knew he had to look; he had to see the escort with his own two eyes and confirm what he knew to be true. He knew who the man was and he was going to face him regardless of the repercussions.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry sat there, holding his glasses in front of his face. Draco eyed him warily, wondering if the man had perhaps lost his mind. But it was really no concern of his; let him sit on the floor like a fool for hours if he wanted to. All it did was prolong the inevitable.

Draco grabbed the pouch he had retrieved from his dresser and dumped it's contents onto the table. If Harry did in fact freak out, he needed to be prepared for it.

So he arranged three, neat lines of powder on the marble surface, held a clipped straw to his nose and snorted them, one after another. The powder stung his nasal passages and his eyes began to water, but it was worth it. The relief was almost immediate.

He ran his finger across the table's surface, picking up any remnants of coke he could, and rubbed the powdery goodness across his gums. His mouth and his brain tingled with a delicious, prickly numbness and he wanted nothing more than to relax and enjoy his high, but he knew he couldn't.

He turned back to look at the now bespectacled Harry, who was standing there with a look of horror and anger on his face. Draco closed his eyes, waiting for the verbal blow to be delivered. But the seconds ticked by and nothing came. No yelling, no screaming, no fits of anger--just silence.

Curious as to what was going on, Draco looked up, just in time to see Harry leave the room and slam the door behind him.

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**A/N: I know this chapter isn't the greatest, but not having a computer is frustrating! It would make my day if you reviewed anyway! Pretty please :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I wish I did...well, I'd like to own everything up until page 753 of Deathly Hollows. I'd let JK Rowling keep those last seven pages :)**

**Warning: No likee gay boys? Don't read!**

**P.S.- No luck on the computer front my friends--that's why there has been such a delay. I have only been able to really write at my parents house--and needless to say, I don't get there too often. The devil, however, says we should have our computer back in about a week now. And once I get it back, I swear I will go back to a fairly regular schedule of once a week. I love writing this story and it's been killing me to not be able to write much! **

**P.S.S.-Not sure when the next chapter for this will be up...probably a week and a half. I have to go in for surgery this week so I will be in the hospital for two days :(**

**Anyway, here is Chapter 4. Please review!**

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Daylight streamed through the dusty windows, casting an eerie orange glow on Harry's face. Irritated, he rolled over and yanked the comforter over his head, burying himself further in a sea of black and silk. He wanted nothing more than to lie and sleep in his bed forever; no one to bother him, no work to tend to, no obligations to fulfill. And he had managed to do just that for three whole days, only leaving the cozy warmth of his cocoon for the occasional trip to the loo.

But Harry knew he couldn't stay there forever. He had responsibilities after all. He had already called in to work twice and he knew that no matter how many dark wizards he had defeated in the past, his days of defeating them with the auror department would be over if he called in one more time.

As it was, Kingsley had already turned the other cheek on numerous occasions. For instance, when Harry left work early without telling anyone, Kingsley reasoned he must have had something important to do--he is Harry Potter after all; and when Harry showed up to work drunk, Kingsley empathized, knowing all too well the demons of Harry's past. But when those isolated actions started to become habits, Kinglsey couldn't write it off or ignore it any longer.

He had pulled Harry into his office after receiving a complaint from a witness Harry had been interviewing. The woman had said that Harry was rude, obnoxious, and very clearly intoxicated, and that she had a right mind to sue the department for emotional damages after the auror had called her a "bumbling cow that doesn't know her ass from her elbow."

And while Kingsley had quite agreed with Harry's inebriated assessment of the woman, he knew he had to do some damage control.

It was quite the mess, but he was eventually able to clean up after what Harry had done. It took some persuasion on his part, as well as an offer to dismiss three tickets the woman had earned for illegally parking her broom, but it got taken care of with limited damage to the department.

"Harry, you don't seem to appreciate the position you are putting me in," Kingsley had said as Harry sat nervously in his office the following day. "I know you have had a more tumultuous life than most people twice your age have had, but I can't keep forgiving your behavior. I can't show favoritism."

"I understand," Harry said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"Good. You're allowed the rest of your sick days, but other than that, I want you here every day and I want you here sober. Got it?"

"Got it," Harry had agreed begrudgingly.

He had only had two sick days left and he was sure those wouldn't last him one month, let alone the six months that were left in the year, but he had to try. If he lost his job, he would have nothing left. His last link to the outside world, his last opportunity for human contact would be gone, and it would only be a matter of time before he became the creepy, drunk, hermit down the street. So he left Kingsley's office, vowing to be on his best behavior, swearing to be a model employee for as long as his muddled mind would let him.

But despite that promise and despite his fear of losing everything, it was just one month later and Harry was using his sick days anyway. He had to; after his visit to Magical Amity he was a complete mess. He couldn't pull himself out of bed no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep,and there was a constant twisting in his stomach that just wouldn't go away.

It wasn't a real physical ailment, that he knew. It was completely, 100% mental, but it weighed on him and manifested itself in a physical manner, to the point where the back of his throat burned from the stomach acid and bile that had collected like standing water in a discarded hub cap. It just sat there, festering, waiting for the rain to come and spill the putrid liquid over the edges or for some kid to kick it over while he walked the railroad tracks with friends his parents didn't approve of.

But what was it exactly that was troubling Harry so much? Why was he so miserable?

He knew part of it was that he was disgusted with himself for what he had done. To him, going to that whore house was the absolute low point of his life. It meant that he had officially crossed the line from being a lonely, drunken bum to being a law-breaking, hypocritical, pathetic, lonely, drunken bum. He had lost every semblance of the old Harry Potter; the beloved and brave Gryffindor of his youth. He was a shell of his former self, and it disgusted more than anything.

But surprisingly, and even more frightening and upsetting than that, was the other reason why he felt so down; the other reason it felt like a wispy cloud of vapor and rain was hovering over him 24/7, blocking the sun and joy from his life. And that other reason was Draco Malfoy.

Ever since Harry had left Magical Amity, little snapshots of his evening at Baron's kept coming back to him, pushing their way through the Fire Whiskey fog that rolled endlessly in his murky brain. They were just like the images that had played in his head that fateful evening, but now the faceless angel that had riddled his mind so completely was replaced by smooth marble skin, icy eyes of silver and white-gold tresses that shimmered like a halo of spun silk. The angel was replaced by Draco Malfoy--No, more accurately, the angel _was _Draco Malfoy.

And knowing that, Harry was unable to think of anything else. His mind was constantly occupied by the former Slytherin. One moment he'd be cursing the insufferable blonde, damning Draco for taking advantage of his drunken state that night, cursing him for being so evil and so conniving. But the moment he let his mind wander, Harry would instead find himself daydreaming about caressing the man's taut chest or inhaling his honeyed, musky scent.

But either way, Harry's thoughts were always about _him._

"I can't let him do this to me," Harry said to himself as he threw the smothering bed covers to the floor. "What's the big deal? It was one fuck...one amazing fuck...but just a fuck all the same...that's it!"

Harry stood up and stalked around the room, sniffing random clothes from the floor and throwing them on his body if they passed his smell test. When he was fully dressed, he retreated to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, washed his face, and ran his fingers through his five day old hair, flattening it as best as he could, before running downstairs to the floo.

He wasn't going to let Draco Malfoy ruin his life. He was going to go to work and get on with things and forget that he ever ran in to that slimy Slytherin prat...Hopefully.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco snorted the last line off of the mirror in front of him and leaned back into the threadbare, living-room couch. He wasn't quite sure what he had just inhaled, but truth be told, he didn't really care. Everyone else had done a couple lines and no one was dead yet. In fact, they all appeared to be having the time of their lives and Draco wanted nothing more than to hop aboard that train to blissful ignorance and happy thoughts.

So he readily obliged when Ogden passed him the mirror and bag of shimmering gold powder. And being the king of one-upping everyone, instead of two lines, he snorted ten in quick succession, pleased to know that he would be five times higher than everyone else, and therefore, would be five times happier.

"Wow," Ogden mumbled through his own drug-induced haze. Draco wasn't sure if it was an impressed "wow" or a "save some for the rest of us you greedy bastard" kind of "wow." But again, he could care less. He just tilted his head back and closed his eyes as a fuzzy warmth began to trickle through his entire body.

He laid there motionless for what could have been seconds or minutes or hours even, letting the tingling sensation work it's way down, from the center of his brain to the tips of his toes. He felt numb and relaxed and aroused all at the same time. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was as if his entire body was one giant nerve ending just waiting to be touched, just itching to be stimulated in one way or another.

"Oggie," Draco mumbled, his eyes still closed.

"What," the sleepy voice next to him replied.

"Slap me, Oggie." Draco didn't know what had come over him, but it just felt right. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to be hit swift and hard across the face. "Please?"

Draco felt the couch cushions move and even though his eyes were closed, he could see in his mind the confused look on Ogden's face as he hefted himself into an upright position.

"Ha...You're funny Drake," the man slurred. "Cuz that...that's funny."

Draco rolled his still lidded eyes. "I'm serious man. Please just do it."

"I can't hit you."

"Just fucking do it man!"

"If you say so Drake."

Ogden lifted his hand, pulled it back and then swung it forward, planting a firm smack on the blonde's cheek. Draco moaned in response, unable to control himself as sparks of electricity shot through his veins making his body tingle with waves of undulating pleasure. "Mmm...do it again."

Ogden obliged, hitting Draco even harder than he had the first time.

"Ooh yea." Draco's body quivered at the added force. Flickers of multi-colored lights danced behind his eyelids like a dozen shimmering kaleidoscopes. It was beautiful and magical and delicious, and Draco couldn't remember ever feeling so amazing in his entire life. He sank further into the couch and imagined if there was a heaven, it had to feel something like this. He just hoped heaven didn't require some weird, gold, wizard drug to make him feel so perfect.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry rushed through his end of day paperwork. Just a few more signatures, a few more files to complete, and he'd be able to floo home and cuddle up on his couch with a good muggle movie and a bottle of Fire Whiskey.

The day had moved at a painstaking pace. There were no calls, no cases to investigate. It was strictly a paperwork day, so Harry was stuck at his desk for hours on end in front of a laptop and stacks of files. Unfortunately, that meant when he wasn't nodding off, he had plenty of time to think. And even though he tried his hardest to think of anything else in the world, his brain kept dragging his thoughts back to Draco. It was annoying and frustrating and Harry couldn't wait for the day to end so he could drown his brain with liquor and wash away all traces of the beautiful blonde.

So the moment the clock struck five, Harry quickly put the finishing touches on his reports, scribbling down some short, one-word responses to the remaining questions, tucked the papers in a manilla folder and all but ran down the hall to deposit his work in Kingsley's mailbox. But as he turned to leave he bumped into someone, scattering their paperwork all over the hallway floor.

"Oh, sorry mate," Ron said as he bent down and collected his things. "Guess I was in a bit of a hurry."

"Oh, no, it's my fault," Harry said. "A little to eager to get home I guess." He did his best to force a smile onto his face, but it felt awkward, out of place.

"Actually, I'm glad I ran into you," Ron said. "Well...not literally...but, well...you know what I mean. I'm glad I saw you. Hermione's going to make a big dinner this Sunday and we were wondering if maybe you'd want to stop by. Rosie misses you terribly..she keeps asking about you."

"Really?" Harry asked as a light pink flush crept across his skin. The truth was, he missed the adorable little girl too. He missed everyone. Ever since his falling out with Ginny, the Weasley's, Hermione included, had barely spoken two words to him and it absolutely tore him to pieces. He wanted nothing more than for things to go back to the way they were before. He wanted to tell Ron 'yes'; to pull him into a hug and forget everything that had happened--but he couldn't.

_They_ were the reason he was in the situation he was in. _They _were the reason he was so miserable_. They_ abandoned _him_ and some measly dinner wasn't going to make him forget that.

"Yea, maybe," Harry said as he brushed past Ron and ran to the nearest apparition point.

But instead of apparating home, he apparated to an alley just a block away from Magical Amity. He felt like he needed to go there. It was the last place he felt anything remotely close to happiness, and he'd give anything to just have some small glimmer of joy again, even if it was just for one night.

So he walked down the street and up the marble staircase of the large Victorian and knocked on the door, throwing caution to the wind.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The buzzer sounded and Draco pried his heavy lids open and stared bleary-eyed around the room. He had no idea how long he had been asleep or if he had actually slept at all for that matter. The swirl of purples and pinks outside the window were no help, bearing resemblance to both a waxing dawn and a waning twilight.

But did it even matter? Time of day made no difference in his hell. If a john came at four-in-the-morning, Draco had to fuck them just as well as he would have fucked them if it had been six o'clock at night. He was expected to perform at the drop of a hat, and there were consequences if he didn't.

So he unwillingly pulled himself up from the couch, his sweaty legs sticking to the course fabric, and made his way to line up like a good little whore. He took his place next to Ogden, noticing the man looked as shitty as Draco felt, and put on the best 'come-hither' look he could muster. He was sure it probably looked like more of an 'I'm constipated' face, but he didn't care. Who gave a shit if the john picked him?

After waiting a few moments, the door swung open and Baron swept in, the john trailing behind him. Gasps and whispers filled the room and Draco suddenly felt like he had been punched in the gut. Only one john had ever elicited that kind of response from the whores. But it couldn't be, could it?

Ogden nudged Draco in the ribs.

"You must have made quite the impression Drake. Ha, I'm starting to think that maybe we should fuck sometime just so I can see what the big fuss is about!" the man laughed. "I mean, he's quite the big fish to pull in. I still can't believe it_--the_ Harry Potter_..._that's just awesome!"

"Yeah," Draco replied, his stomach flopping around like a fish on dry land. "Really awesome."

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**A/N: Please review. Reviews make me the happiest girl ever! **

**And P.S., for anyone that might have read my other story, _Picking up the Pieces_, I just wanted to let you know that I decided to write an epilogue. It should be posted in a week or so!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...If I did I would be rich and wouldn't have had to wait over a month to get my M F-in computer back.**

**Warning: If you do not like reading about gay boys, it's a lost cause man. Gay boys are all I write about :)**

**P.S.- I know, I know, I know!!! Three weeks without an update! Will you ever forgive me? I hope so :) Now that I am all healed-up after my nasty surgery and my computer is healed and home after having surgery of her own, I will be getting back to my normal writing schedule (once a week.) And very soon my friends, I will start posting another (as of yet untitled) story. It's kind of a fun little S&M ditty--but I will let you know more about it when the time comes.**

**So anyway, before I get stoned in the town square, here is chapter five :)

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Baron shut the door tightly behind them causing dust to rain past the iron chandelier like fluffy flakes of snow. Harry studied the flecks that stuck to his shirt, taking the time to flick them off one by one--anything to not look at the line-up of men before him. He was ashamed he was back at that whore house; but more than that, he didn't want to accidentally catch Draco's eye. He didn't think he'd be able to stand looking at him--to see the blonde's haughty arrogance or his menacing glare; one of which he was sure to be wearing like some cavalier mask. After all, those were the only faces the Malfoys possessed, and after their last encounter, Harry was certain Draco would want to make him feel as small as possible, something the blonde could accomplish with one look.

But not looking at Malfoy begged the question--Why was Harry even there? He didn't even want to look at Draco, so he certainly wasn't there to pay for his company again, was he? Sure the man had been a god in bed, but Malfoy? No, Harry couldn't do it. There was too much history, too many bad memories of the former Slytherin; Harry couldn't _knowingly_ have sex with Malfoy and actually enjoy it. There was no way.

That only left one other option--He'd have to fuck someone else. If he wanted to try to get some semblance of the feeling he had just a few nights before, he would have to opt for another man, someone less adverse, someone that posed less of an emotional and physical to threat to him than Draco. But who?

Harry unwillingly lifted his eyes and began studying the smorgasbord of men before him. They were all extremely good-looking, perhaps to a fault. Now that Harry was quasi-sober, having only forged a nip or two on his walk to the house, he was feeling intimidated by the god-like creatures. They came in all different shapes, sizes, colors and ages, but they were all equally beautiful. Some were tall, dark and thin, while others looked like they hopped straight off the pages of a body-building magazine, rippling with bulging muscles and their skin glowing like sun-kissed honey.

They were glorious, but Harry found himself drawn to a different type--tall, lean, and blonde, with ivory skin and a face that had an androgynous beauty that would make men and women alike weak in the knees. Frustrated, Harry realized that his type _was_ Draco, and other than him, there was only one person in the line-up that possessed half of the allure the former Slytherin had.

Harry conceded, deciding that that man was good enough, better than what he was typically used to in fact, and made his way down the line, locking eyes with his target as to not let his gaze go astray.

"I'm Harry," he said extending his hand.

"O-Ogden," the man said as he stared wide-eyed at the wizard before him. After an awkward moment, he seized Harry by the wrist and began planting kisses up and down the length of his arm.

"Ah...um...that's quite alright," Harry said pulling his hand away. "So...can we get out of here?"

"Oh, yes, of course!" Ogden said excitedly. He turned on his heel and beckoned Harry to follow him.

Harry kept close to Ogden, but looked around and took in his surroundings. He vaguely remembered walking down that same hallway just a few nights before, and in fact, he was fairly certain he could even point out which doorway had lead to Draco's bed chambers, but it was almost like he was seeing the place for the first time.

In short, the place didn't seem fit for habitation. The hall was dark, the only light coming from a few random sconces that were cracked and coated with a thick layer of grey dust. The walls were covered with a maroon, brocade fabric that was dotted with black stains and moldy fuzz and that spewed cottony filling from random rips in the thick material. It reminded Harry of Grimmauld Place before he and his friends had given it a major face lift just a few summers before. If was dark and grimy and he felt dirtier for just having stepped in the place.

"Here we are," Ogden said opening one of the many identical doors. "Welcome to my humble abode."

Harry smiled weakly, making a mental note that the room he thought belonged to Draco was directly next door to the room he was entering. _Great!_ Would he be able to enjoy himself knowing that Draco's ear could pressed against the wall, listening to every sound he made, every moan that escaped his lips? Would he be able lose control and enjoy himself so thoroughly that he wouldn't care if the prat was next door or not?

He would at least have to try.

So Harry took a deep breath and crossed the threshold into Ogden's room.

When he entered, he was taken aback by what he saw. The room was the complete opposite of the foyer and the hallway, and of Draco's room, if Harry remembered correctly. The room was beaches and sunshine; the walls were painted a serene, sky blue and the plush, champagne colored carpet squished under Harry's shoes like thousands of grains of soft sand. Directly in the middle of the room was an over-sized, circular bed swathed in blue-green satin sheets that mimicked the most beautiful, turquoise seas of the Caribbean. The place was exquisite and Harry's awe must have read clearly on his face.

"When you're the top earner they give you a small budget to decorate your room," Ogden said brightly.

"Oh," Harry replied. "So...top earner, huh? That's cool, " he said, searching to avoid any awkward silence.

"Well, I used to be. Drake has that honor now." Ogden mumbled, his tone souring. He walked over to the bed and plopped down, gently patting the space next to him. "But who cares about that nonsense. We're here to make _you_ happy, Mr. Potter, not to talk about work. Why don't you come on over and get comfortable."

Harry obliged, kicking off his shoes and taking a seat on the bed, doing the best he could to shut up the voice in his head that wondered how many people Draco had to fuck to become top earner.

"So...we're supposed to negotiate a price first, right?" Harry said anxiously. He wasn't quite sure if that was the typical protocol in such a place, but he remembered that Draco had demanded they talked money before they did anything.

"Oh, Mr. Potter.."

"Please, call me Harry."

"Okay, Harry," Ogden said leaning towards the ebony-haired wizard. "I couldn't imagine charging _you_ when this will be such an honor for me. I should be the one paying you if anything!"

Harry could feel his face begin to flush. He always hated being regarded like a celebrity and he did his best to avoid situations where he might be treated as such. Ministry galas, charity events, even the supermarket on a busy weekend; he avoided those places like the plague, opting to only venture out when he had to go to work or in the evening when he could hide under the cover of darkened skies and emptied streets.

And Harry had assumed he would be safe from that kind of rubbish at Magical Amity. Their entire business was based on mum and secrecy, and from what he understood, they had quite the prestigious clientele. Yet throughout all of Harry's investigation of the business, he was never able to finagle one, single, high-profile name out of anyone. They remained tight-lipped, no matter how much pressure was put on them during interrogations, so Harry had assumed they were undaunted and unimpressed by the people they dealt with, or at least, they were able to act that way.

But the way Ogden looked at him was not reminiscent of the seasoned pros Harry had interviewed. Ogden looked like an awestruck teeny-bopper; his face glowed with admiration and there was a desperate look in his eyes, like he would do anything in the world to please Harry.

"Listen, I am going to pay you," Harry said irritated. "What do you normally get, like 100 Galleons an hour?" he asked, remembering the rate. Draco had quoted him.

"Oh no," Ogden said. "I stick pretty close the house rate...usually 50 or 60 an hour--50 is fine though. That's all I'll let you pay me," he said folding his arms indignantly.

"Fine," Harry conceded handing the man 100 Galleons. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand much more than two hours with someone that was thunderstruck by his mere presence anyway.

Ogden stood up and threw the money on his dresser before making his way back to the ebony-haired wizard and kneeling on the bed, straddling Harry's thighs. He got to work undressing him, taking great care as he did so, slowly releasing each button on Harry's shirt before pulling it off his shoulders and casting it aside.

Harry suddenly became very conscious of the fact that he hadn't showered in five days. His skin was coated in a layer of sticky sweat and his hair was matted with grease and dirt. How he _felt _was bad enough; he couldn't begin to imagine how he _smelled_.

There was no way he could let anyone touch him in such a state.

"Um...maybe this isn't such a good idea," Harry said wriggling out from underneath Ogden.

"And why not?"

"Well, to be honest," Harry said grabbing his shirt and shoes, "I just got out of work; I haven't showered; I feel disgusting."

"Oh I don't mind." Ogden quickly scooted to Harry's side, pulled him into an embrace and began kissing and nipping at his neck. Harry softened a moment, reveling in the erotic tickling sensation the man's kisses created. But a second later, he snapped out of it when Ogden began licking him instead. Harry shuddered in disgust.

"Okay, that's enough," Harry said, peeling the other man's arms from his body. "I gotta get out of here."

Harry stalked to the door, ignoring Ogden's cries of protest, and left, slamming the door shut behind him. And before he knew what he was doing, he marched straight into the room next door, not even bothering to knock.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After Harry had picked Ogden from the line-up, Draco went back to his room confused. The only time people picked Ogden instead of him was when he was already busy with another client. And in many instances, the johns had chosen to wait for Draco to become free instead, not wanting to settle for second best. Yet Harry Potter walked in, having been given what Draco was sure was the best shag of his life just a few nights before, and yet he opted for the ground chuck instead of the fillet mignon. It was perplexing, but then again, when did Harry Potter ever do what was normal?

Draco chalked it up to the fact that Potter was too proud to admit that his former nemesis was a god in bed and deserved to be worshiped as such. But Draco knew he would come around; they always did. The only question was, when Harry came crawling back to him, begging for even just a little taste of his cock, would he oblige?

He loathed the former Gryffindor, but he couldn't deny that he relished having the upper hand, no matter what the situation was. That, and the fact that Draco was quite sure that Potter had been left a large sum of gold by his parents, made up his mind for him. If Draco could manipulate Harry and milk him for all he had, perhaps even get the man to pay his dowry, Draco would be set for life. And after Potter had served his purpose, Draco could ditch him, leaving him lovelorn and broken in his dust, while he, Draco, laughed all the way to the bank.

It was the perfect plan.

But just as Draco was congratulating himself on being so brilliant, his thoughts were interrupted by a disturbance from Ogden's room. He heard Ogden shouting and pleading for Harry to stay, followed by the distinct sound of a door being slammed. And before he knew it, Draco's own door was being flung open.

Harry stood there seething until suddenly a look of realization passed across his. "Oh, sorry," he mumbled as he turned to leave.

"No, don't be sorry," Draco said. He stood up and shut the door, then grabbed Harry by the hand and pulled him over to his bed.

It was time to start Phase One.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry took a seat on Draco's bed, grateful to not be going to his empty house right away, but addled at the fact that he just stormed into Draco's bed chambers uninvited, and even more confused that Draco hadn't thrown him out like the belligerent trespasser he was. Instead, Malfoy had offered him a seat and was now looking at him curiously, an expression of interest on his face.

"So, what happened?" Draco asked like they were old chums.

"Um, nothing really," Harry replied.

"Oh is that so?" Draco said mockingly. "Really, tell me what happened. No...wait, even better, let me guess. Did Ogden come on a little strong?"

Harry nodded.

"Did he grovel at your feet like some star-struck teenage girl?"

Harry laughed. "Pretty much."

"Yeah, he's been known to do that. He's a bit of an...amateur...when it comes to our high-profile clients"

"I can see that," Harry scoffed, but then felt guilty for bad-mouthing Ogden. After all, he was only trying to do his job. So what if he was little over-enthusiastic. "Well, that, and I just decided I wasn't really in the mood," Harry amended, his cheeks flushing at his unintentional revelation.

"Really? Why's that?" Draco asked, clearly amused.

"Oh, well, you know...I just got off of work...I'm just kind of tired and in need of a shower, that's all."

"I see. Well you can shower here if you'd like. Bathroom's right through that door," Draco said pointing towards the corner of the room.

"Oh, no, that's quite alright. I should get going anyway."

Harry got up to leave but Draco pulled him back down and placed a hand on his knee. "Really, it's no bother," he cooed.

Harry stared at Draco trying to make sense of the situation. He was sitting in _Draco Malfoy's_ bedroom, conversing with him in a civilized manner, and if Harry wasn't mistaken, Draco was being flirty with him. It didn't make any sense given their past, but it especially didn't make sense given their encounter just a few days before. Harry had tried to fuck Draco when the blonde had clearly stated he'd allow no such thing, and then Harry stormed out of the room like Draco had done something wrong. Yet Draco was sitting in front of him, being as sweet as could be despite all of those things.

"Nah, I really should go," Harry heard himself say in a noncommittal way. It was like his head and his mouth were operating on completely different wavelengths; his mouth said one thing, but his head thought another, and Draco's hand creeping further up his thigh didn't help Harry's confusion.

So even though his mouth said he was leaving, his head kept thinking of how depressing it would be to go home alone. His head kept thinking of how nice it would be to spend the night in the company of another wizard; a sexy, intelligent and _skilled _wizard; of how amazing it would feel to release some of the tension that had been building inside of him for ages. His head wanted Draco, no matter what his mouth was saying.

Harry reached into his pocket and set it's entire contents on the bed, at least 1000 Galleons. "Are you free for the rest of the night?" he asked in a small voice.

Draco placed his hand on Harry's. "Of course I am," he said. He gave Harry's hand a quick squeeze before scooping the money off the bed and placing it in the tin on his dresser. "Now how about that shower?"

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**A/N: Please review! The next chapter is almost done and reviews might make me work a little quicker to finish it ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Once again I would like to point out that Izzie and I almost owned his pants, but alas, that's as close as we got (besides the eye sex of course.)**

**Warning: Do I really need a warning at this point? If you got to Chapter 6 and haven't realized that I only write about gay boys by now, you must be incredibly thick :)**

**P.S.- So I thought that I would be done with this before I went on vacation, but surprise, I wasn't. But now that my Paramore/No Doubt/Atlantic City filled week is over (a week in which I saw Jennifer Aniston and met Hayley Williams--yay!) I will be back to my normal schedule. **

**And by the way, thank you everyone that has stuck with me, even with my month of infrequent updates. I super-appreciate it! And as a sign of good faith, I have made this chapter a bit longer than my usual ones.**

**But anyway, here is Chapter 6.**

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"Now how about that shower?"

Harry shivered at the mere sound of Draco's voice; the dulcet way it curled off his tongue, the sweet seduction that dripped off his every word like rivers of smooth, hot fudge. The man was allure and sex appeal personified. Everything from his voice, to his body, to the hypnotizing swagger of his walk, was sexy. But Harry tried to remind himself that that was the blonde's job. Draco got paid to be sexy, to play the role of the perfect man. The tin on his dresser was filled with Merlin-knows-how-many Galleons because he said the right things, did what was asked of him, and because he had the distinct ability to please his partner to no end. Every move was calculated, every word was carefully planned.

He was putting on a show and Harry knew it, but the facade was easy to ignore as Draco's breath danced across his neck, causing every hair on his body to stand on end.

"Come on," Draco purred. "Let's get you all cleaned up."

A drunken feeling washed over Harry, one ten times more powerful than the high produced by the couple of swigs of Fire Whiskey he had nipped earlier. His head began to spin and his body tingled with tiny sparks of electricity as Draco grabbed his hand and led him to the bathroom.

And as they stepped inside, Harry was yet again amazed by what he saw. Polished, travertine floors glittered under row after row of soft, recessed lighting. On the far side of the room was a large shower with at least a dozen spigots jutting out from the walls and with a bench that wrapped around it's length, ensuring enough room for at least three or four friends to join in, if it was so desired.

But the most impressive thing about the room, by far, was the bathtub. It was sunken into the floor, like an in-ground pool, and was surrounded by rich, green, Italian marble. Hundreds of tea-light and votive candles rested on it's edges, along with several cube vases of mossy-colored hydrangeas. It was warm and inviting and Harry wanted nothing more than to draw up a nice, relaxing bubble bath and soak in it until every inch of his body was puckered and pruned.

"Fancy a bath instead?" Draco asked, eyeing Harry.

"Uh, well, that's alright. I can just shower."

"Nonsense," Draco said. He reached behind him and hit a button on the wall and instantly the tub began filling with steaming hot water and clouds of foamy bubbles. When the tub had mostly filled, which seemed to take no time at all, Draco turned back to Harry and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"I can get it," Harry said indignantly. But Draco just pushed his hands away and continued working, moving on to Harry's pants as soon as the shirt was off. And shortly after, his pants and socks joined the growing pile of clothes in the middle of the floor, so that Harry was left standing in nothing but black, silk boxers.

"Um, can you turn around," Harry said quietly, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

"I have already seen _everything_," Draco cooed, "and trust me, you have nothing to be ashamed of."

Harry's face flushed deeper, but he managed to hold his ground. "Please?" Harry asked again. This time Draco cooperated, covering his eyes in an exaggerated fashion before turning around to face the door.

Harry quickly slipped out of his shorts and lowered himself into the bath, careful to completely cover himself with the satiny bubbles. The whole thing reminded him a bit of his fourth year at Hogwarts when he bathed in the prefect's bathroom to try to figure out his Tri-Wizard Tournament clue. He had to keep pulling scoop after scoop of bubbles toward him to hide himself from Moaning Myrtle's prying eyes; except he was pretty sure that when he had bathed in the prefect's bathroom, he didn't have a raging hard-on, which was currently the case.

"Ready yet?" Draco asked, tapping his foot on the tile floor.

"Uh..." Harry checked to make sure that he was covered one last time. "Yeah."

Draco turned around and began undressing, lifting his shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor with Harry's things.

"What are doing?" Harry asked, shocked.

"Joining you of course." Draco flashed a smile. "What did you think I'd be doing? I mean, let's be honest...If all you really wanted was to get clean, you would have just gone home, right?"

"I, uh...well..."

"Exactly. Now scoot forward...Go on," he said gesturing to the front of the tub.

Harry did as he was told and then watched intently as Draco continued to peel off every stitch of clothing. When the blonde was down to his boxers, Harry feigned interest in a bunch of bubbles that had stuck to his hand, but he continued to sneak quick glimpses of Draco out of his peripheral vision. After all, a good looking guy was a good looking guy, right? Why waste an opportunity to ogle such a magnificent specimen?

After he finished disrobing, Draco lowered himself in to the water behind Harry, not bothering to try to cover himself up with bubbles. Instead he reached into a nearby cupboard and pulled out a bowl filled with soap, shampoo, conditioner, and a fluffy, green loofah. He soaked the loofah in the water, squirted a few drops of soap on it, and then began washing Harry's back.

And as Harry got good and lathered , part of him wanted nothing more than to tell Draco to sod off, to say that he was a grown man and was more than capable of washing himself, thank you very much, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Words failed him and rather than speaking what his brain was thinking, he found that his mouth, without his permission, had instead began to emit a series of low, soft moans. He couldn't help it though; between the warm, comforting water, the scent of soothing balsam soap, and the slow, deliberate circles Draco was massaging into his skin, Harry was in pure bliss.

He closed his eyes and lolled his head back, resting it on Draco's shoulder

"Perfect," Draco said, reaching around. With the better access, he began washing Harry's chest and stomach, but quickly set aside the loofah, instead rubbing his bare hands up and down Harry's torso, allowing them to travel lower with each downward stroke. Harry shuddered as Draco got closer and closer to his cock, which was now painfully hard, almost to the point that he was ready to take matters into his own hands, so to speak.

But despite the immense pleasure he was feeling, Harry was still conflicted. Did he really want to allow himself to be so vulnerable, and in front of Draco Malfoy of all people? He had a hard enough time letting his guard down as it was, he couldn't imagine how he'd feel if he decided to throw caution to the wind and give in to his desire, only to have Draco laugh in his face and run to the papers with the story of how the savior of the wizarding world was now a drunken loser that was so pathetic he had to pay for affection. Harry didn't think he'd be able to handle it; he couldn't fathom being kicked further when he was already down as low as a person could get.

But then again, on the other hand, could things really get much worse? What would really happen if the _Daily Prophet_ printed another negative story about him? People would either skip over the article, chalking it up to more crazy antics of the mentally-unstable Harry Potter, or they would read it, take it as gospel, just like all of the other stories that had ever been printed about him, and continue thinking that he was a lost cause, a spent contrivance that had already served it's purpose and was now worthless. Either way, people already thought of him as a nutter and one more article surely wouldn't make him or break him. Would it?

But Harry's mind was quickly made up for him. He inhaled sharply as one of Draco's roaming hands reached down, wrapped around Harry's cock, and began to stroke it at a smooth, even pace. The damage was done and it was too late to turn back, so Harry conceded, allowing himself to be enveloped in nothing but pure pleasure.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco continued to stroke Harry's cock, his mind focused on what his next move would be. How could he get Harry exactly where he wanted him? Sure it was easy to get Harry _lusting _after him, as demonstrated by their current position; but what would he need to do to get the Gryffindor golden boy to _fall_ for him?

_Hmm...._Draco thought. _What do those sappy types like? Kissing maybe? Passion? Vulnerability? _Draco knew he could do all of those things, or fake them at least.

He would need to appeal to Harry's emotional side, the side that was nearly every person's downfall. After all, that is why Draco learned to control his emotions. If he had control over his emotions, no other human being could have control over him. He and he alone was the master of his destiny. It was a survival instinct really; it allowed him to look after number one and no one else, and up until his getting involved with Baron, it had worked just fine, so why try to fix something that isn't broken?

And besides, his plan was multi-functional really. Every aspect of it served him in one way or another. With the proper moves, he would be able to get out of Magical Amity, crush Harry Potter, and enjoy some mind-blowing sex all at the same time. Talk about killing _three_ birds with one stone. And the only thing Harry Potter would get in return would be some good sex, an emptied bank account, and a broken heart. It was perfect.

Draco mentally patted himself on the back for being such a genius.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry's breathing quickened as Draco added his lips to the mix, pressing warm kisses down Harry's neck and shoulders, not once losing the rhythm of his pumping hand. But after a moment, the dizzying sensation Harry was feeling suddenly disappeared, and he realized that Draco was no longer next to him, but was padding across the bathroom floor towards a large mirrored cabinet. Draco opened it and reached inside, retrieving a small silver box before returning and sliding back into the tub.

"What's that?" Harry asked, a little miffed that Draco had abandoned him, even if it was only for a moment.

"You'll see," Draco said with a smirk. Harry rolled his eyes, but before he could think of a clever retort, Draco grabbed him and pressed their lips together with force, his tongue quickly gaining entrance into Harry's mouth.

"Mmm," Harry moaned loudly.

As they kissed, everything felt amazing and beautiful and _right,_ and Harry couldn't believe that he had almost denied himself such mind-numbing bliss. It was like Draco's sheer touch made every nerve in his body go haywire. Light touches, accidental caresses; they all felt amazing and they all made sparks of electricity to shoot directly to Harry's nether-regions, causing his already hard dick to strain painfully. But as incredible as it all felt, Harry knew he wouldn't be able to take the stimulation for long; it was too intense and he felt like he was going to literally explode if he didn't come soon.

But luckily for him, Draco must have been thinking the same thing.

Draco pulled himself away and Harry reluctantly let him, taking the opportunity to close his eyes and relish the prickling sensation that had consumed every inch of skin that the blonde had touched.

Harry could hear Draco rustling around, but paid no real attention, not wanting anything to ruin the current state he was in. It wasn't until he heard the distinct sound of snorting that he opened his eyes to see what the other wizard was up to.

"Would you like one?" Draco asked, arranging a couple of neat lines of coke on a small, round mirror.

"So that's what was in the box?" Harry asked incredulously. "What, didn't think you could fuck me without being wasted?"

"Not at all Harry," Draco soothed. "Quite the contrary. I wanted to make this as amazing for you as possible."

"I'm sure." Harry said sarcastically as he sat back and folded his arms.

"Seriously. Just a couple of lines and we'll be able to stay up _all_ night. Just imagine the possibilities." Draco crawled over to Harry and began nipping at his ear as he whispered. "And besides, that's not the _only_ fun thing in my box. But you just have to trust me Harry. I want you to enjoy this."

Harry shuddered as Draco sucked his earlobe into his mouth, and that was all the persuasion that he needed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco smiled at his triumph. He watched intently as the hero of the wizarding world was bent over the edge of his bathtub, snorting line after line of muggle coke. Harry had already snorted a good nine or ten lines and Draco knew he would have to cut him off soon. After all, his true intention really was to keep him up all night and show him a good time, not to have him pass out after only being together an hour. Draco wanted to make a good impression, and a lasting one at that, and giving Harry the night of his life would hopefully accomplish said goal.

"I think that's enough," Draco said wrapping his arms around the former Gryffindor.

He pulled Harry close and began kissing and caressing him just as he had previously, and just like before, Harry began moaning softly and grinding his hips. And as much as Draco would like to say he wasn't enjoying himself, he was. Harry had a sort of rugged beauty and seeing him in such ecstasy was an absolute turn-on. But Draco wasn't sure how long he would be able to keep up the tender, loving charade. He wanted nothing more than to bend Harry over and plow into him repeatedly, but he had a feeling Harry required a lot more foreplay before moving on to the main event. So to pacify his raging hormones, Draco snaked his hand under the water and began to stroke his twitching cock.

"A little anxious?" Harry asked.

Draco flushed a little as he realized he wasn't being at all discreet with his self-pleasuring, but he carried on stroking himself anyway, hoping Harry wouldn't be too offended by his impatience.

But on the contrary, it seemed to turn Harry on even more. Before Draco knew it, Harry had turned around and bent over the edge of the tub, just as Draco had been imagining.

"Please," Harry begged. "I want you in me."

Draco didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed the silver box he had retrieved from the cabinet and dug around until he produced a small bottle of lube. He squirted a liberal amount on Harry's ass, taking a moment to admire how beautiful the man before him was, then pressed his cock against Harry's entrance.

"Are you ready?" Draco asked, wanting to seem as gentleman-like as possible.

Harry simply nodded, his face wearing a hazy, lust-filled expression.

"Alright, I'll be careful."

Draco gripped Harry's hips tightly and pushed, his cock breaching the tight entrance with relative ease. He began a slow, steady pumping rhythm and suddenly, without warning, bursts of light began popping behind Draco's eyes. He had nearly forgotten just how amazing Harry felt and the sensation snuck up on him, leaving him temporarily blinded by pleasure.

"Faster," Harry moaned.

Draco snapped back in to reality and hastily obliged with Harry's request, pumping into the brunette with a quickened pace. Harry growled in response, but the added friction was proving too much for Draco. His balls had already begun to contract and he knew that he would come any second, but he couldn't have that unless Harry was coming too. It appeared as though he would have to try to hurry things along.

Draco pushed in closer to Harry and leaned forward, trying for a position that made the other man's prostate more accessible. And after routing around a moment and testing out different angles, Harry cried out and Draco knew he had hit the right spot. So he held the position and continued pumping, then reached around, and began stroking Harry in time with his thrusts.

"Harder," Harry screamed. "Fuck me!!"

Just those words were nearly enough to make Draco spill his load, but he held out and instead began slamming into Harry with as much force as he could muster. His nails dug sharply into the other man's flesh, no doubt drawing blood, but he didn't care. If Harry wasn't complaining, then neither was he. He just continued thrusting, plowing into Harry so hard that he swore the man should have broken in half, but Harry took it like a pro, gyrating his hips wildly as he screamed and yelled in pleasure.

And after only a few more moments of being thoroughly impaled, Harry cried out one last guttural scream, clenching himself tightly around Draco as he spurted come into the bubbly water below. Draco came just seconds later; the added sensation created by Harry's tightening being just enough to send him sailing over the edge so that he filled the other wizard's ass with spray after spray of his sticky seed.

When he had finally emptied himself completely, Draco rolled off of Harry, exhausted, and plopped back down into the cooling bath water. He looked over at the ebony-haired wizard and smiled. "So how about we get cleaned up for real now?"

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**A/N: So I just read over this and it appears as though the entire chapter was just one long sex scene. Oh well, hope you don't mind :) Anyway, pretty please review. Reviews make my day.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I own tickets to the midnight showing of his movie (nerd alert) but alas, that's all.**

**Warning: Boy+Boy+Sex+Drugs=Fun, gay wizard nookie. With all due respect, if you don't like it, you should find yourself a nice little K+ fanfic and call it a night :)**

**P.S- Hey guys! I wanted to let you know ahead of time that I am going to try to get chapter 8 up by the weekend, but I can't make any promises. You see, it just so happens that it's my birthday this weekend. (Yay to presents, boo to getting really old!!) And due to awesome friends and family, it is looking like it's going to be pretty much an all weekend celebration--not that I am complaining, but it might hamper my story-posting abilities.**

**But anyway, let's not put the cart before the horse. Maybe I'll be right on top of things and the next chapter out before the weekend (wink wink.)**

**Alright, here it is, Chapter 7. Please let me know what you think!  
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Harry sat in a crowded pub for his lunch break the following Friday. It had been a whirlwind week for him and he was reaching the point of pure exhaustion, but he didn't mind. He had visited Draco nearly every day after work, staying well into the wee hours of the morning, sating every last carnal desire and feeding the animalistic instincts that threatened to consume him whole if left to their own devices. And even though he didn't think it possible, it was as though each encounter with the former Slytherin was better than the last. The visits were becoming more passionate, more raucous, and they were lasting longer and later into the night, leaving Harry pleased if he got even three or four hours of sleep.

But despite being severely sleep deprived, Harry was happier than he had been in months. There was a new spark to him, a new spring in his step, something he hadn't really noticed at first. But as he sat in the pub, scarfing down some fish and chips and nursing a pint of Guiness, the difference became more obvious to him than it had ever been. Here he was, surrounded by people, and people he didn't know for that matter, and yet, he continued to sit there, calm and unaffected. The old Harry would have never even entered the crowded pub, but the new and improved Harry didn't mind the confluence of people. In fact, he quite enjoyed having so many subjects to contemplate. After all, being an auror, he couldn't help but people-watch while he was out and about.

He watched as a nervous man in the corner obsessively checked his watch, and Harry couldn't help but smile when the man's face finally lit up upon seeing a beautiful blonde woman enter the pub; he watched as two old men at the end of the bar reminisced about their past, clinking their glasses together to toast their past, present and future; and he smiled sheepishly as he took notice to a young brunette a few tables over that kept casting him flirty glances before finally waving when she asked the waiter bring him another beer, on her.

It was like world around Harry had suddenly changed. People seemed happier, more full of joy There was a perpetual air of elation, an interminable sense of hope and optimism, and although part of Harry thought there was no way this could have all existed before without him noticing, the more logical part of him realized that his enlightenment to the positive side of life was due to a change in perspective, not a change in his surroundings. And this change in perspective, was no doubt brought on by Draco Malfoy.

As crude as it sounded, Harry had needed to get laid--plain and simple. He was miserable and grouchy and extremely sex-deprived by the time he made his initial visit to Magical Amity. And although it took a couple of visits, he finally was able to let go and enjoy himself completely, providing himself with an outlet for his aggression and an aperture for his pent-up emotions.

But sexual release aside, Harry's time with Draco provided him with something else that had been direly missing from his life--human contact. Harry used to avoid people like the plague, averting his eyes if he passed someone in the hallway or making up fake engagements if someone asked for his company to an event or over to their house for dinner. He loathed being in the presence of others and he hated the stares and whispers that came along with it. He did everything he could to avoid being the center of attention and it ended up making him completely miserable. Men twice, hell, men _three_ times his age were less crochety than he was and he realized that had he not met Draco again, he probably would have died a lonely, bad-tempered, old man.

But thankfully for him, Harry did, unconventionally and unexpectedly, run into Draco again, and things were finally starting to look up for him.

"Harry, what's up mate?" The sudden voice pulled Harry out of his reflective reverie, and he looked up to see Ron standing next to his table. "Mind if I have a seat?"

"Not at all," Harry smiled.

"Great. So listen," he said pulling a chair out for himself, "I know you might be busy and all, but Hermione is making a big lamb dinner this Sunday and we wanted to see if you would join us..."

"Yeah, sure."

"I mean she makes so much of it," Ron babbled as though Harry hadn't spoken, "we usually end up throwing a ton away and.....Wait, what did you say?"

Harry laughed. "I said 'sure.' I would love to come over."

"Really? Wow, 'Mione is going to be so thrilled!"

"I'm glad," Harry said standing up. "I'm thrilled too. Unfortunately though, my lunch break is just about over so I have to head back the office. But what time do you want me over Sunday?"

"Um, is 1:00 okay by you?"

"Perfect," he said, turning to leave. "I'll see you then."

The rest of Harry's day was rather uneventful, a few files to review, a couple of reports to fill out, but he didn't mind. The busy work made the latter part of the day pass quickly, and before he knew it he had apparated out of the office and was walking down the familiar street to Magical Amity. And after going inside and talking to Baron a moment, he all but skipped down the hall to Draco's room, his excitement at the evening's prospects bubbling out of every pore.

"Come in," Draco called after Harry knocked a particularly upbeat rendition of "Shave and a Haircut" on the door.

He readily obliged, scooting in the room and then shutting the door behind him. He smiled at Draco who was sitting at his table with a small pile of shimmering, opalescent dust laid out on its smooth surface. The blonde looked up, gave Harry a quick wave of acknowledgment, then arranged the powder in one long, straight line before inhaling the entire thing in a single snort.

"Would you like some?" Draco asked, wiping his nose as he turned to Harry.

Harry contemplated it a moment. Although part of his brain told him he shouldn't do it, that he no longer needed any mind-altering substances to put him in a good mood, the other part of his brain shouted that it wasn't a big deal. He had done muggle drugs with Draco before and it made their encounter feel ten times more amazing, so he could only imagine what wizard drugs would do.

"Well?"

Harry reluctantly nodded, padded across the room, and inhaled the line Draco had set out for him. He waited a moment for the familiar burning sensation in his nostrils to hit or for the disgusting post-nasal drip that was sure to accompany such an odd drug, but neither of them came. Instead he felt perfectly fine, like he hadn't inhaled anything at all--that is, until the drug actually kicked in.

The effects hit him hard and fast, and Harry quickly laid down on the bed in an attempt to get a hold of himself. The room felt like it was rotating at a hundred miles an hour, the ceiling spun so that the iron chandelier was nothing more than a dark blob blurred against it's stark white surroundings like one of those Rorschach tests. And how fitting that was--Harry imagined that this must be what going insane felt like. Well, not imagine, he _knew_ this is what it felt like. It was like he was on a speeding train to nowhere and he wanted nothing more than to hop off, but he had no brakes and everything passing the windows was such a blur that he had no concept of where he was, where he was going. It was an infinite, downward spiral into an abyss of nothing.

He quickly clamped his eyes shut to stave off the nausea that was rising in his gut, but just as soon as he did, it felt as though the spinning had suddenly stopped. But Harry stayed still. He was afraid to move, afraid that if he opened his eyes the spinning would start back up and he would never be able to stop it again.

"It's okay," Draco cooed, brushing stray strands of hair off of Harry's forehead. "I should have warned you. The first time you do it it's really rough for a few minutes. I watched Ogden try to hide inside the couch when he did it. He swore that under the middle cushion there was a secret passage to an underground bunker where we could hide." Draco laughed.

"What was that?" Harry asked, slowly opening his eyes. He looked around the room tentatively, but as far as he could see, nothing was spinning.

"Gaudium. Newest wizard drug on the market, so they say."

Harry grumbled inaudibly and pulled himself into a seated position. "Ya, a little warning would have been nice. You could have killed me or..."

"Don't you worry grasshopper. Have I led you astray yet? Trust me, when it fully kicks in you will be thanking me."

Draco winked suggestively and then leaned into Harry, planting heated kisses up and down his jawline before nipping at his ear with sharp nibbles. Harry didn't object and instead relinquished control to Draco, allowing the blonde to push him back onto the bed and remove every stitch of clothing from his body. And as a cool breeze danced across and made him shiver, it suddenly hit him. What he was doing at that moment was perfectly right, it was what he was _supposed_ to be doing. It was wonderful and magical and Harry couldn't imagine anything more amazing than being there in that room with Draco. He was infinitely happy and felt ready to burst with the radiant glee that was building inside of him.

But more astounding perhaps, was not how he felt on the inside, but how he felt on the outside. His body felt amazing. His muscles were lithe and strong and he felt as though he had the endurance to run twenty marathons, and he wanted nothing more than to put that stamina to the test and fuck Draco for hours and hours on end until his skin was raw and his muscles ached. But as he closed his eyes to imagine how glorious that prospect was, another odd sensation hit him.

It was like static electricity was suddenly spreading across his body, rolling across his entire form, charging every hair follicle and every cell with tiny orbs of power. His skin buzzed with potential energy, unstable and just waiting for some minute touch to set it off. His body was like a bug zapper, still and humming unassumingly, no one expecting the killer that lay inside, behind the hypnotizing pull of soft lights and luminescent skin.

But before he could warn about his sudden lethality, Draco was gone. Harry turned over and saw that he had returned to the table and was arranging a few more lines of Gaudium on the smooth surface. He leaned down and inhaled them in quick succession, rubbing the powder's remnants across his gums. After a moment, he walked over to the closet and then returned to Harry with something hidden behind his back.

"Draco," Harry started. "We should stop. I don't feel right, I..."

"Shh...just trust me Harry." Draco pulled his arm from behind his back and produced a rather ordinary looking, black, feather duster.

"But what's.."

"Shh. Stop talking, stop thinking and just let me have my way with you." Harry shut his mouth and obeyed, steeling himself against the painful zap or powerful explosion that was sure to come. But instead, when Draco touched the downy feathers to his chest, a warm tingling sensation shot straight from his torso to his groin and it took everything in his power to stop himself from coming right then and there. It felt so amazing. Waves of pleasure undulated throughout his entire body, crashing down and drowning him in a sea of ecstasy. He wanted Draco to keep touching him, keep caressing him until he was driven absolutely insane with euphoric lust.

Then suddenly, just as soon as it all started, it suddenly stopped. Harry moaned and pleaded a moment, begging Draco not to stop, begging him to keep touching him, kissing him, anything.

But he got no response.

Alarmed, Harry bolted upright and a small scream escaped his lips as he saw Draco waver a moment before falling gracefully into a crumpled heap in the middle of the floor.

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**A/N: Please review! It would be the coolest birthday gift ever :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am now the owner of a bunch of Half-Blood Prince movie stubs--but that's about it :)**

**Warning: Gay boys, drug use, sexy time--all the makings of a good time if you ask me. But if you disagree, keep on moving...nothing to see here.**

**P.S.- So again, it's been a while--almost two weeks. I said I was back on my usual writing schedule last time I posted, and I really intended on it staying that way. However, things happen--sometimes good, sometimes bad--that interfere with the best of intentions. In this case, it was a combination of good and bad things that threw me off. On the bad side, my 3 year old nephew got ran over by a 4-wheeler a few days ago when his irresponsible mother wasn't watching him. Luckily he is okay, just some cuts and bruises, but it was enough to freak my family out and cause a lot of drama. **

**But on the good side of things, it was my birthday on the 10th and around 11:55 that night I got the last of my presents from my boyfriend--an engagement ring--yay! It was about time :) So I'm not gonna lie, I have spent hours on end looking at dresses and cakes and venues online with my friend, and have completely neglected my writing. But now that my initial giddiness has worn off, I feel up to doing other things again.**

**So anyway, I hope no one's mad--and here, without further blabbing, is chapter 8.**

**P.S.S- There is a little one-line homage to the HP6 movie in here--let me know if you see it :)  
**

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Draco smiled inwardly as unknown fingers swept across his body like a warm summer's breeze. They traced tentative circles on his bare torso and brushed aside stray locks of hair from his forehead, tickling his skin with a feather's touch. They were gentle and wonderful and kind hands, and although Draco's eyes were closed, he had no problem determining who those hands belonged to, for no one that he knew personally could, or would for that matter, touch another person with such love and such reverence. No one he knew could be so gentle or so caring unless they had some sort of ulterior motive, himself included. No, the only person he knew that had the capacity to be that compassionate and that benevolent, was Harry Potter.

Warmth and adoration flowed from every fiber of the former Gryffindor's being like an endless font of emotions. He had a big heart, a heart he desperately wished to share with a special someone. And as far as Draco could tell, Harry was on the verge of sharing it with him. Just one more little push and the man would be putty in Draco's very capable hands, begging for his love and affection. And of course, Draco would provide Harry with those things for as long as it took to carry out his plan. Whether it be a few more days or a few more months, Draco would bide his time, tending to Harry's every hope and desire, providing him with night after night of unbridled, passionate lovemaking--anything it took to make Harry fall so completely and madly in love with him that he would do anything the beautiful blonde wanted.

Draco would become the puppeteer, and Harry, nothing more than a pathetic, little marionette. It was perfect. For once, things were finally coming-up-Draco and he never wanted his streak of good fortune to end.

Draco sighed, stretching luxuriously and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Oddly, he felt more rested than he had in ages, but chalked it up to his recent triumphs and the euphoric feelings they evoked. It was strange though, because he didn't actually remember going to bed the evening before, but perhaps Harry's sexual prowess had tired him so that he conked out immediately afterward.

But then again, now that he thought of it, he couldn't even remember fucking Harry--and he _always_ remembered fucking Harry. He could remember them doing a few lines of Gaudium and he remembered kissing Harry and even busting out the feather duster for a moment, but that was it. That was where his recollection of the evening's events abruptly stopped. There weren't any half-blurry memories poking through a drug-induced fog; there were no memories of deciding to call it a night because he was too tired or too high. There was nothing. It was just like *poof,* his entire evening was gone.

Panicked, Draco bolted upright, throwing Harry back in the process.

"Are you okay? Do you need me to get Baron?" Harry asked rubbing his elbow that had collided with Draco's nightstand.

"No, I need you to tell me what happened last night."

"Well...Draco," Harry said, resuming his post at the blonde's bedside. "We had done some of that Gaudium and then we were...well...you know. And then suddenly you just dropped to the floor." Draco's eyes widened but Harry continued. "It was horrible. You started shaking and your eyes rolled back in your head. I screamed as loud as I could and Baron came running to see what was wrong. I explained everything and he disappeared a second and then came back with a briefcase full of little vials. He injected you with some bright pink liquid and then everything just stopped. I...I thought for a second he had killed you."

A dark look passed over Harry's face and Draco was taken aback at just how different the usually calm Gryffindor suddenly looked. He looked enraged, ferocious, dangerous even. And Draco couldn't help but feel a small twinge of glee at the fact that Harry was this upset on _his _behalf. Granted, things weren't going 100% as he imagined, taking a much more perilous route than he had intended, but it looked as though Draco's plan was working none the less.

"I was so worried," Harry continued. "But when I leaned down I could hear your heart beat; I could hear you breathing. It was like you were just in a deep sleep. _Baron_ told me you'd be fine," he said, spitting out the man's name.

"Harry...what else happened? Why are you so upset? I'm okay...I'm alive."

"It's...It's that pitiful excuse for a human being, Baron. He's an asshole Draco. You need to get the fuck out of here and fast. He doesn't care about you. He doesn't care about anything except making money. The entire time you were shaking he kept mumbling that he couldn't afford to lose you...that he couldn't lose his top earner."

Harry was shaking with anger. He stood up and began pacing the length of the room, his hands clenched in tight fists by his side.

But despite Harry's rage, Draco was so happy he could burst. Never in a million years could he have dreamed that Baron would be the one to help free him from his life of servitude. Sure it wasn't intentional, but either way, Baron's callous words had struck a nerve in Harry. And after seeing his reaction, Draco was absolutely certain that with a few more carefully placed comments, Harry would crack and would be paying his dowry in no time, much sooner than Draco could have ever anticipated. At this point, it was in the bag, like taking Chocolate Frogs from a baby.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry stomped down the rain-slickened street toward his home, doing his best to avoid squishing the plump little worms that always lined the cobblestones when it stormed. His drenched clothes stuck to his skin and his hair was so wet that it was matted down flatter than it had probably ever been in his life.

A cool breeze blew through Harry as he rounded the corner to his house, making his teeth chatter so hard he thought they might shatter inside his mouth. He could have easily avoided these inconveniences by simply apparating home from Magical Amity, a trip he had made multiple times before, but he had instead opted to walk. He needed time to clear his head, time to process everything that he had just learned about Magical Amity, about Draco.

Harry had been so upset about the cruel words Baron had said--the way he regarded Draco as a cash cow and nothing more. But when he had told Draco of these terrible things, he looked neither upset, nor surprised.

"Of course, that's all he cares about Harry," Draco had said in a very somber tone. "That's all any of us are to him--a means to an end."

"Then leave!" Harry yelled. "You don't deserve to be treated this way."

"I can't leave Harry..."

"Yes you can. Grab your stuff and go! You can certainly get a better job than this! Hell, I'll help you get a job if you need me to."

"Harry no, you don't understand. I literally can't leave...Baron owns me."

Draco had went on to explain the entire situation to Harry, about how Baron had tracked him down when he was working the streets on his own, how the man had drugged him and tricked him into signing a magically enforced contract. Harry listened, disgusted and in awe as Draco told him of the never-ending supply of drugs Baron provided to keep everyone hazy, about the consequences if they denied a john, and ultimately, about the only thing that could free him from that hell hole.

Harry's initial reaction had been to march up to Baron and punch him repeatedly in the face until the man begged for mercy. But Draco immediately shot that idea down, insisting that Baron was quite powerful and that using brute force against him would only anger him and make Draco's life there even more unbearable.

Frustrated, Harry had quickly gathered his things and left, kissing Draco on the cheek and vowing to figure something out by morning.

But after walking for nearly an hour, no light bulbs had gone off in Harry's head, no strokes of genius had come along that would fix everything and make it all better. And when he finally arrived at his house, he could only think of one way to save the former Slytherin from this terrible mess--Harry would have to buy Draco. It was the only thing he could do that wouldn't make Draco's situation worse and that wouldn't expose his association with a whore house.

Sure it was a lot of money to spend, but in reality, it was only a fraction of what he had in his vault at Gringott's. And after all, he mused, he had been looking for some worthy, charitable causes to donate to--what better than this? He would be saving someone from a desperately hopeless situation, freeing them from perhaps a lifetime of servitude. But more importantly, he would be rescuing Draco from the dangers that resided inside Magical Amity's four walls.

It was the right thing to do, and as far as Harry could see, it was the only option.

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Draco woke early the following morning, his insides still quivering with waves of adrenaline from the previous night's excitement. He had barely slept a wink, but he didn't mind. All that mattered was that things were continuing to go his way, and by the looks of things, Draco would be rid of Magical Amity and would be sleeping in a nice, cushy bed, with no johns and no pimps to worry about, before the end of the week. Then he could do all of the sleeping he wanted.

Harry hadn't stopped by yet to confirm all of this, to tell Draco he'd be whisking him away from this prison, but Draco knew it would happen. If there was one thing he learned at Hogwart's, it was that with their excess of chivalry and nobility, Gryffindors simply could not resist an opportunity to play the hero. And what better opportunity would Harry have nowadays? Draco was the sad, misguided, bad-guy-turned good, that couldn't escape his notorious past, and because of that, ended up trapped in a despairing and treacherous situation. Harry _had_ to save him; it was his nature.

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Harry knocked gently on Draco's door, unsure if he was still sleeping off the medication Baron had given him. Typically he would have given Draco a few days to recuperate, but he felt like he had to see the man right away. Luckily for him, Draco was wide awake.

"Come in," Draco called cheerfully. Harry walked in and plopped down on the bed, laying his head in Draco's lap. "What can I do for you today," the blonde purred as he ran his fingers through Harry's hair. "A bath? A massage? Some cuddling maybe?"

"Actually, I am here because I have a solution to our problem."

"Harry, don't worry about it...I'm fine."

"No, it's not fine. _You_ are not fine. I am getting you out of here. I am giving Baron the 40,000 Galleons," he said matter-of-factly.

"Harry, no..."

"Draco listen to me," Harry snapped. He sat up and gripped Draco's shoulders firmly, their faces only inches apart. "I am paying your dowry. I can't let that asshole treat you like this."

"But.."

"But nothing. I'm not going to let you rot here. I can't do this anymore knowing how he treats you. I have the money; I'm giving it to Baron and you are leaving today. No ifs, ands or buts."

Harry stood firm, not letting his eye contact with the former Slytherin waver. Then, suddenly, without warning, Draco's lips began to tremble and his eyes filled to the brim with tears. "Oh Harry," he exclaimed, wrapping his arms tightly around the other man. "How will I ever repay you?"

"You don't have to...I mean." But before Harry could finish, Draco's lips smothered his own, drowning out any protest he might have.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco plunged his tongue eagerly into Harry's mouth, mentally patting himself on the back for being able to cry on cue so easily. It was a skill he had perfected early on, knowing it could come in handy in situations such as this. And as far as he could see, Harry had bought his bullshit tears, hook, line and sinker.

But now that he had Harry right where he wanted him, Draco wondered what he would do next. He hadn't expected his plan to work so quickly, so he never really took the time to plan out his next move. Would he just stay in a hotel until he found a place? What about work? The money he had saved wouldn't last him very long, especially with his discerning tastes. What would he do once the cash ran out?

But Draco did the best he could to push those worries out of his mind when Harry pushed him back on to the bed and began to peel away his clothes.

For now, he'd focus on rewarding himself for a job well done.

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**A/N: Please review :) Props to those who find my little (one word) homage to HP6 :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I do not make any money off of this...blah, blah, blah.**

**Warning: I hold gay boys very near and dear to my heart--But if you don't, I suggest you go elsewhere, because they're all I pretty much write about :)**

**P.S.-Sorry it's a shorter chapter folks...I worked on it long and hard, but I just couldn't get it to sound the way I wanted it to. So finally, after agonizing over it for a week, I kind of gave up. I decided I should put my energy in to the next chapter instead of this fluffy one. I'd rather take my time on important, plot chapters than filler ones.**

**So anyway, I hope you don't mind, and I really hope you take the time to review anyway :) It would make my day.  
**

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Harry's heart pumped erratically; his mind swimming with so many different feelings he wondered how it was humanly possible for someone to experience so many things at once. He was overwhelmed to say the least, and he had no idea how to suppress his emotions before they all bubbled up and made him explode, spewing off jets of steam and flinging chunks of flesh all over Draco's pretty room. _Draco's soon to be 'old room.'_

Harry cringed, because that was what all of his confusing feelings came down to really. In one way or another, they all linked back to Draco, like a tiny snowflake that rolled and picked up countless fluffy crystals as it went, eventually snowballing out of control and bringing down a mountain top's worth of snow with it. And it all had happened that fast. Draco was the singular flake, so perfect and glistening with beauty, and so unlike anyone Harry had ever met. But before he knew it, seeing Draco was as necessary to him as breathing. Then soon, just seeing him wasn't enough. He had to spend entire nights with Draco, not caring if he got one wink of sleep. He was obsessed, addicted to the man, and he felt powerless against it.

Then that night happened. The whole thing with the Gaudium was enough to sober Harry and snap him back in to reality. What was he doing associating with such people, the logical part of his brain had asked. Why was he risking his health and his sanity for a cheap (actually, not so cheap) thrill? But unfortunately, when he got his response, it was the not-so-logical part of his brain that had answered. It told him that he was slowly draining his bank account and allowing himself to become severely sleep-deprived and crazy, not only because he enjoyed the sex, but because he was falling for Draco. And that, more than anything, scared him to death.

In his life, nearly everyone that he had loved had been taken away from him, either forcefully or by their own will, and he didn't think he would be able to live through it if the same thing happened with Draco. His heart had been fragmented then slapped back together so many different times it was like a centuries old book; worn around the edges, missing pages, and with a binding that was so fragile that the slightest misstep would cause it to crumble into a million pieces, never to be put back the same way again.

But that fear that he could never come back from being hurt again was only one of the emotions running through Harry as he laid there. He was worried that Draco wouldn't return the sentiment, but excited by the endless possibilities if he did. He was nervous about the outcry if he and Draco did become an item, especially from Ron and Hermione, seeing that his relationship with them was already frail and strained. But the idea of having the opportunity to give the world the middle finger and tell them once and for all to fuck off and mind their own business, was more than invigorating. Harry was torn; his emotions pulling him in twenty different directions at once. He felt that at any moment he might rip down the center causing all of the opposing forces on him to fly back, stumble away from him never to be seen again; and he certainly didn't want that either.

But as he laid there, the feeling at the forefront of his mind was not worry, it wasn't excitement or anticipation, it was 100% pure bliss. The way it felt as Draco buried his cock further and further inside of him, was so indescribable, so awe-inspiring, Harry felt like he had reached the pinnacle of pleasure and that nothing could ever in a million years ensnare his senses and arouse his body and mind so completely as Draco had, as Draco was doing at that very moment.

"Ohhh!!!" Harry cried out as he came, spraying spurts of sticky come onto his stomach.

Draco smiled a deliciously wicked smile, then leaned down and began lapping at the his lover's abs, bound and determined not to waste a single drop of the man's seed. And once Harry was clean as a whistle, Draco sat back up and lifted Harry's hips, allowing himself the deepest penetration possible.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco resumed thrusting, his vision hazing as he got closer and closer to his impending release. He gripped Harry's hips tightly and pumped one last time, filling the former Gryffindor with his come

"Mmmm...That. Was. Amazing," Draco cooed, planting warm kisses on Harry's lips between each word. He rolled over on the bed and closed his eyes, savoring the waves of libidinous aftershocks that coursed through his veins. If one thing was certain, Harry was an amazing lay, and Draco couldn't see himself tiring of their trysts any time soon.

And it was with that thought in mind that Draco began finalizing his plan.

He had given some thought previously as to what he would do after Harry's inevitable purchase of him, but nothing was ever set in stone. There were so many variables to consider at that point in time that he had eventually conceded, deciding to fly by the seat of his pants and see where winging-it got him. But now that he had a better sense of Harry, of what made him tick and of the man's yearning for love and affection, Draco knew exactly what he had to do.

What if poor little Draco had no place to go after Magical Amity? Would Harry let him go back to the streets, back to hooking, back to the danger and the destitution that came hand in hand with squatting? Would Harry let him dig through the trash for scraps of food and deprave himself for the simple luxury of a night in a warm bed instead of another night on a dirty mattress in an alley?

Draco highly doubted it. That was once again the beauty of Gryffindors. They were so simple-minded and so predictable with their constant need to help and their pension for being unsung heroes. They were brave and selfless and considerate and stupid, and they lacked the intellect and guile necessary to successfully navigate their way through life. Instead they allowed themselves to be naive and vulnerable, like big, gullible oafs that would do anything you told them to do, as long as it gave them the opportunity for valiance.

And it was that character flaw that Draco hoped to take advantage of. With a little exaggeration and some acting on his part, he was certain Harry would become his sugar-daddy in no time, keeping Draco wanting for nothing and living in the lap of luxury. Then as soon as he had all of the funds necessary, he could drop Harry like a bad habit, never to see him again.

It was a straightforward plan, one that required patience and endurance and charm, but simple none-the-less. Draco just hoped that it played out as simply as it sounded.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry quickly dressed, smoothing out his hair and clothes before linking his arm through Draco's. "Ready to go," he asked. Draco nodded and followed Harry out the door and down the hallway to Baron's office. Once they were outside of his quarters, Harry knocked twice on the rich mahogany, then stepped back, waiting for Baron to answer.

After a moment the door swung open. "Gentleman...What can I do for you? Please, come in, come in." Baron waved them inside, shutting the door behind them and taking seat in a plush, leather armchair across from the couch Harry and Draco had already claimed. "So tell me gentleman, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well," Harry said looking nervous. "I'm here to express my interest in...well..._purchasing_ Draco."

"I see." Baron drummed his fingers on the marble-topped table beside him. "Interesting....hmm...Very well, let me get his file." The man hopped up and began rummaging through some filing cabinets in the corner of the room, returning moments later with a manila folder in his hands. After scanning several of the documents inside of it and scribbling some notes on a small pad of paper, he set the file down and clasped his hands in his lap. "Alright Mr. Potter, the asking price for Mr. Malfoy is 60,000 Galleons."

"But you said 40,000," Draco yelled, his temper flaring at the new revelation.

"Ah, but that was before I knew how valuable you were. I operate on the basic laws of economics, my friend. If I have a product that the public absolutely can't live without, I can set the price for that product as high as I want, because no matter what, I know _someone_ will be willing to pay it. So yes, you started out at 40,000 Galleons, but now you're at 60."

"You can't do that!"

"Draco, it's okay," Harry said, putting his hand on the blonde's knee. "I'll give him 60,000--it'll be worth it to get you out of here."

"See, now there's a man of reason," Baron chuckled. "Let me get the paperwork."

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Nearly an hour later, after handing over 60,000 Galleons and filling out countless forms, Harry and Draco were free to go. Draco could hardly contain his excitement, dancing gaily around his room as he emptied drawers and shoved things into his suitcase. Then when he was all packed, the two men headed to the front door, where Baron was waiting with his hands behind his back.

"Here you are," he said handing Draco his wand.

Draco couldn't believe his eyes; his heart skipped a beat and he all but cried out in happiness. He had been at Magical Amity for so long, he had nearly forgotten about his wand. It had once been such a part of him, like another limb, but after having it taken away from him, he learned to live without it, to do things the muggle way--but those days were over.

Draco held the wand gingerly in his hand and slowly wrapped his fingers around the polished piece of wood, relishing just how wonderful it felt to have it in his possession again. It seemed like a lifetime since he had last held a wand, and now that he had it, he felt whole again, like every piece of the puzzle had finally clicked in to place. It was magnificent and Draco suddenly felt invincible, like nothing could go wrong and like he had the entire world at his fingertips.

"Ready?" Harry asked, smiling brightly.

Draco smiled back. "You know what...I think I am."\

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**A/N: Please review--reviews make me write faster :) And again, I promise next chapter will be longer...At least one and a half times the length of this one.  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Draco Malfoy...but maybe if I head over to Magical Amity, Baron will have one of them in stock for me.**

**Warning: I feel like this is starting to get pointless--but I'll do it anyway. Ahem:**

**Brielle23 is somewhat of a pervert that strictly writes stories about gay boys (horny teens and twenty-somethings to be exact) and the lovin that ensues when said boys act on their every want and desire. It can sometimes be romantic and fluffy, and it can sometimes be depraved and dirty--but all of my stories have humping. So if you do not like that sort of thing, do not read any of my stories--ever.**

**P.S.- This one is a bit longer than the last--still not super long--but longer. I had a lot of crap to do this weekend (including seeing HP6 for the fourth time--sad, right?) so I didn't get as much done as I wanted. But at least I posted, which is better than nothing I hope :)**

**Anyway folks, here is Chapter 10. Let me know what you think!  
**

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The warm air of mid-morning wrapped itself around Draco the moment he exited the stuffy confines of Magical Amity. It was as though the heavens were smiling down him, like they knew the day's significance and wanted to welcome him back into the world with the most beautiful weather they could possibly offer. The sun sparkled overhead, stretching its fingers across the usually grey skies, and Draco's pallid skin gratefully drank in its rays, lapping up every drop of sunshine as though afraid the glow was too good to be true, like the moment Draco turned away, the sun would disappear behind the clouds, never to be seen again.

"Ready to go?" Harry said, holding his arm out for Draco to latch on to. "We can apparate around the corner up there."

"Um...actually..I was hoping to walk a bit. I mean it's such a nice day out and..."

"Oh yeah, of course. It's not that far away anyway." Harry dropped his arm and continued walking, maintaining a respectful distance between them. And Draco was appreciative. He needed to take in the sights and sounds on his own; he couldn't do it feeling rushed or with anything to distract him. After all, it had been ages since he had been in the outside world and he owed himself the opportunity to get reacquainted with it. He might have had plenty of things to think about, like what he would actually do once they reached their elusive destination, but he pushed those things out of his mind, bound and determined not to waste a single second of his freedom.

As they rounded the corner, the atmosphere of a bustling city assaulted his senses. The new street smelled of fresh baked bread and exhaust, a combination most wouldn't find appealing, but Draco welcomed it with open arms. Anything beat the scent of moldy walls and musty furniture that he had become so accustomed to. Muggle car horns blared and children laughed as they jumped rope on the sidewalk. A cart selling roasted nuts on the corner reeled Draco in with its promise of cinnamon-induced euphoria, but his hopes for the decadent fare were quickly dashed when he discovered you needed muggle money to purchase them. However, Harry being the constant-gentleman, reached into his pocket and produced a couple of folded bills, and Draco walked away with a paper cone filled with happiness.

He popped the candied gems in his mouth, savoring their sweetness and savoring his surroundings as they crossed the street to a busier block yet. This section of town was filled with countless, muggle shops. Windows with everything from copper pots and pans to muggle apothecary products stretched as far as the eye could see, and Draco wanted to see them all. He paused a moment at a florists, literally stopping to smell the roses. Beautiful mauve calla lilies and periwinkle hydrangeas hung in wicker baskets and they subconsciously reminded Draco of the gardens of his childhood home--the manor. It brought him back to a simpler time, before he knew his parents place in the wizarding world, before things fell apart. However, not wanting to make the leap from childhood memories to adolescent horrors, Draco quickly moved on, desperate to keep his train of wonder moving ahead at full steam. But all too quickly the crowds on the streets began to thin, making way for more residential co-ops and flats.

"We're here," Harry said climbing a stoop that led to an emerald green door. He dug into his pockets and produced a ring of dangling keys. After struggling a moment to make the chosen key fit into the lock, it finally clicked and Harry pushed the door open, holding it so Draco could enter. "It's not much, but it's home." Draco stepped inside, removing his shoes when he saw Harry doing so.

Looking around, Draco was in taken aback by what he saw. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he expected of the Chosen One's home, but it certainly wasn't the sight in front of him. The flat was spacious, one very large room encompassing a living room, kitchen and two makeshift bedrooms made from small alcoves on the opposite wall. It was rather quaint for Draco's taste, but it would have had potential, had it not been for the trash strewn all over the place. Piles of papers were scattered all over what Draco assumed was a coffee table, although he couldn't see any of its surface to confirm that suspicion, fast food bags and wrappers were wadded up and tossed in various spots on the floor, and empty bottles were stowed in every nook and cranny imaginable—in the sink, on the counter, even tucked between couch cushions.

"Sorry, it's a little messy," Harry said as he ran around the room and scooped up pile after pile of debris. He pointed to the corner. "The fireplace is over there if you need to floo anyone. I know you didn't have time really to arrange anything before you left."

Draco's brain instantly kicked into high gear. He had allowed himself to get distracted by his new-found freedom, making him temporarily lose sight of his goal. But now he had to get back down to business. He had seeds of deceit to plant, and he had to plant them soon, before Harry realized his plan, or worse, grew tired of him.

"Um...see...I don't really have anyone to call," Draco said, doing his best to look embarrassed and ashamed. "I mean...I am so grateful to be out of that place, but the downside is I don't really have anywhere to go."

"What about friends?" Harry asked.

"They abandoned me."

"Family?"

"Dead or in jail."

"What about the manor?"

Draco's heart sank. It seemed like Harry was already trying to get rid of him. Perhaps playing the man was going to be harder that he thought. "All of my family's assets were seized," Draco said taking a deep breath, letting his lip tremble a little for good measure. "If I had any other options do you think I would have turned to that profession to begin with? Definitely not. But don't worry. I'll figure something out. I have always considered myself to be quite resourceful, and if need be, I can use my...er_...assets_ to make money again until I can afford a proper place to live. Then I can look for a real job, a respectable job."

Harry turned and stalked over to Draco. "Whoah...wait a second. So I paid all that money to free you and you're just going to go back to prostituting?"

"Harry, my options are limited. I mean, it won't be all that bad. Anything is better than being at Magical Amity."

"Maybe...but you don't have to prostitute. I can help you get a job somewhere else."

"Harry, no...I'm not putting you out like that!"

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Harry's mind spun. He couldn't believe that after everything he had done for the man, Draco was going to throw away his second chance at life and go back to the streets. He understood that Draco was at a disadvantage, that he would have a hard time rebuilding after everything that had happened, but did he really need to go back to prostitution? It was degrading and dangerous, and quite honestly, it pained Harry to think of the countless men that would be lining the street corner for just a few minutes with Draco--with _his_ Draco. He felt stupid and pathetic for thinking that way, but he couldn't help it. He had feelings for the former Slytherin, feelings he couldn't quite put his finger on, but feelings none-the-less. But unfortunately, Draco could do whatever he wanted with his life. He was a free agent and could screw as many men as he wanted, whenever he wanted, and there was nothing Harry could do about it.

Or was there?

In his haste of getting Draco out of that miserable hell hole, Harry hadn't really discussed the implications of buying one of Baron's "goods." Did he literally _own _Draco now? Harry did sign a contract, after all, transferring ownership of Draco from Baron to him, but what did that really mean? Was it just a formality or did he sign a magically enforced contract like the one that had bound Draco to Magical Amity for all that time? If it was a magically enforced contract, it literally meant what is said: Draco was now his property and he could, in turn, make the beautiful blonde do whatever he wanted. And that meant if Harry ordered Draco to stay off the street, he would have to oblige.

"Draco...can you tell me a little more about the contract I signed with Baron?"

"Well...it just states that you bought me, I guess. That's all."

"But thinking back to some of the verbiage on the contract, it made it seem like I literally own you now. Am I crazy or is that what it means?"

"Erm...well..."

"I mean, I can floo Baron and check the details if need be. I'm just curious..."

"No!" Draco yelled. "Don't call him. Please." He stepped closer to Harry, a pleading look in his steely grey eyes. "Yes," he sighed. "That's what it means. For a whole year, you literally own me." A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "Ha, who would have ever thought, right? I, Draco Malfoy, now have to ask 'how high' whenever the great Harry Potter tells me to jump. But that's karma for ya?"

"Draco, I would never take advantage of this! I am only going to ask you to do what I think is in your best interest--starting now actually. I insist that you stay here with me for at least a good month or two, at least while we try to get your situation straightened out, okay?"

Draco nodded. "Simple enough. Just please...I am begging you...please don't call Baron." Tears began to well in the corners of Draco's eyes and Harry could see his lips start to tremble ever so slightly. If one thing was for certain, Harry knew then and there that he never wanted to say or do anything to make Draco this upset again. It literally tore his heart in two to see such a strong and beautiful person reduced to this fragile state.

"I promise," he said, brushing aside a strand of Draco's hair, "I won't call him. Ever." But before anything else could be said, Draco flung his arms around Harry and crashed their lips together with such fire, such intensity, that Harry could hardly breathe. It made him frantic and light-headed, but he truthfully didn't mind; it only added to the dizzying sensations that were coursing through his body. It was like drowning in a sea of his favorite things--chocolate, caramel, whipped cream. He could forgo breathing for a long time to stay submerged in such decadence and deliciousness.

But somewhere in the distance, Harry heard his grandfather clock start to sing. It played a short little melody of beauty and optimism, before ringing out with a singular, long, distinct chime. It was one o'clock.

"Shit!," Harry said pulling himself away from Draco. "I have to get to Ron and Hermione's. Do you mind just hanging here while I'm gone? I should only be there a couple of hours tops." Harry quickly ran to his dresser and pulled out a black, button-down shirt. "Then, maybe," he said, swapping the new shirt for his old one, "maybe when I get back, we can pick up where we left off?"

Draco smiled, looking a little crestfallen, none-the-less. "Sure."

When Harry was dressed and presentable, he ran over to Draco and placed a quick kiss on his forehead. "Perfect. I'll be back soon!" Then he turned and stepped into the fireplace, quickly spinning out of sight.

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Draco was fuming. Never, in his ten years of having sex, had anyone ever denied _him_. Sometimes a person might be hesitant, but Draco always knew how smooth over those little snags, comforting and coercing the laggard until they were once again putty in his hands, soft and pliable and willing to do whatever he said. But not once had anyone outright denied him, especially not in the heat of the moment. If in the same situation, a _normal_ person would have said 'Fuck my friends...I want to stay here and fuck you,' but not Harry Potter. No, he had to be strange and difficult. He was noble and felt compelled to fulfill his obligations, even if it left Draco hanging, well, not hanging, but fully erect with a raging hard-on.

_But,_ Draco had to remind himself, _it's not the small victories that matter _(and fucking Harry on his terms would have been a victory.) It was the main event, the battle that Draco had been waging without Harry's knowledge that truly counted_. A_nd as far as that was concerned, Draco was winning that war, hands down. Harry had eaten up his sob story like a fat kid eats cake; quick and easy and without thinking about the repercussions. So even if his sexual prowess was waning some, which he was sure that it wasn't, Draco had a restored confidence in his power of persuasion. He had spoon-fed Harry exactly what he wanted to have happen, and Harry, in turn, gave it all to Draco, without even realizing whose hand was really holding the spoon.

And thinking of silverware, Draco groaned as he looked around the room. "Well if I'm living here, I can't be surrounded by this filth." He picked a crusty fork up off the table and threw it in the sink, before setting off to clean the rest of the flat.

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Harry got nauseous as he spun through floo, passing room after room of other wizard's homes. Finally, after twisting and turning for what felt like ages, he came to an abrupt stop, banging his head off of the brick fireplace he had landed in.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed as she pulled him out of the grate. "I have missed you so much!" She wrapped her arms around him tightly and Harry couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, I've missed you too."

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**A/N: Come on guys...review me...all the cool kids are doing it! (This has got to be the lamest attempt at peer pressure ever!)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...simple as that :)**

**Warning: If you do not like gay boys and/or gay sex, do not read this story.**

**P.S- I wanted to take a second to acknowledge the following awesome people: iluvclarkkentxx, automatikjoy, ilovelobsters, izziebelle, evolet72, RRW, bwargle, arineat, and slinky-slut. Normally I get a chance to respond to every that reviews, but this week was horrific! So anyway, you guys rock!**

**Alright--Yay to the return of slash! I have been missing it!  
**

** So without further adieu, here is Chapter 11.  
**

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After several minutes in Hermione's embrace, Harry unwillingly pried himself away. A big smile stretched across his face as he dusted the soot and ash off his clothes. "Ha, really…I missed you guys too. Where's little Rosie?" he asked. "I have been itching to give her a great, big, bear hug."

Hermione frowned. "I'm sorry Harry. She's with my parents for the week...If I would have known you were coming for sure I would have had them take her another time..." she rambled, "but it had been so long since you had been over and Ron said he asked you for dinner and that you agreed but you had agreed to come over before and didn't show up and..."

"Hermione," Harry said holding his hand up. "It's okay. I understand completely. No worries. I'll have plenty of opportunities to see her in the future, I'm sure. I don't plan on being a stranger ever again."

"Oh Harry!" Hermione exclaimed throwing her arms around him again. "I'm so happy to hear that!"

Harry let her hug him for longer this time. However, after a few minutes it was Hermione that stepped away. Tears glistened in her eyes as she walked over to the coffee table and grabbed a tissue. And for the first time since Harry had flooed there, he finally had an opportunity to take in his surroundings.

"Wow," he breathed. "It looks like you got a lot done since I was last here."

"Yea, Ron has been quite the busy little bee," Hermione said cheerfully, dabbing away the last of her tears. "He's done a lot of repairs, some by hand even—and you know how much he despises doing things the muggle way."

"Well it's beautiful. He did a great job."

Harry looked around the room, admiring all of the improvements his friends had made in the last several months. The last time he had been over, Ron and Hermione had just moved in and the place was in severe disrepair, with tattered carpets and worn hardwood floors. However, those had been replaced with planks of smooth, cherry wood that left the home smelling of mahogany and the outdoors, and expansive oriental rugs in rich, jewel tones that reminded Harry of the old Gryffindor common room. The crumbling fireplace had been rebuilt, the brick replaced with a face and mantle of shiny, black marble with rivulets of white and silver snaking their way through the glassy surface like hundreds of tiny tributaries. The stairs that were once unsafe were now repaired, the railing and spindles made out of the same wood as the floors and the steps carpeted in a plush, maroon runner with beaded fringe.

It was all very beautiful and rich and cohesive, and Harry couldn't help but wonder what his friends would think if they saw _his _place. The only thing that flowed in his flat was trash—it flowed from all of the surfaces and trashcans right onto the floor. And now that he was thinking about it, Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for leaving Draco in the squalor and filth that was his home. Sure the former Slytherin had stayed in worse places in the past, abandoned buildings, park benches and the like, but he certainly didn't _deserve_ to stay in them, just like he didn't deserve a place like Harry's. Draco deserved opulence and grandeur; he deserved to be doted on and spoiled. He deserved everything, and Harry wanted to give it to him.

"Well, come on," Hermione said, interrupting his thoughts. "Ron's in the kitchen waiting."

Harry obliged, following Hermione, as well as the scent of fresh herbs and roasted lamb that was beckoning to him with a dense, mouth-watering finger. It smelled exquisite and his stomach grumbled hungrily, having not been properly nourished since the previous day.

"He's here Ron," Hermione said as they stepped into the kitchen.

"Hey man, glad you could make it," Ron said embracing Harry in a half-hug and patting him on the back. "It's been too long."

"It has."

"Well have a seat. It should only be another few minutes."

Harry nodded and walked over to the dining area, yet again amazed by the amount of works his friends had done in such a short amount of time. The room was airy and bright, with a large, sliding glass door that led to a lush, fenced-in yard complete with climbing rose bushes, a swing set and a golden retriever puppy asleep in a dog house. Three skylights overhead shined beams of light onto the dining table, illuminating the spread upon it with a warm, inviting glow. Harry took a seat, drinking in his surroundings and the smell of the fresh baked rolls and various side dishes before him. Finally, just when he thought he couldn't stand the torturous scents tempting his nostrils any longer, Ron brought over the lamb and gave the go-ahead to dig in.

The three of them ate in relative silence; Ron and Harry because they were busy stuffing their faces, Hermione because she was too busy smiling and beaming appreciatively at them. And finally, after a four course meal and a dessert of raspberry trifle, everyone was stuffed to the point of bursting and retreated to the living room for a rather early night cap. Hermione picked an emerald green bottle off of the shelf near the couch and uncorked it with a loud 'pop.' She poured about an inch of the bright green liquid in the bottom of two glasses. Then, ritualistically, she placed two, rather fancy looking, slotted spoons on top of the glasses and balanced a cube of sugar on each one.

"What are you making?" Harry asked curiously.

"Patience my dear," she smiled. Then she reached to a serving tray behind her and grabbed a pitcher of what Harry could only guess was ice water. She held it carefully over one of the spoons and very slowly, almost drop by drop, poured the water over the suspended cube of sugar. It began to dissolve and, before Harry's eyes, the almost neon liquid in the glass began to cloud, turning an opaque shade of light jade.

"Wow," Harry said quietly. "Really, what it is guys? Is it some sort of new Fire Whiskey or something? I'm so out of the loop with some of these things..."

"Nah," Ron laughed. "Nothing magical about it. It's a muggle drink actually...Absinthe. I tried it on when we were on vacation and loved it. It's a little strong, ha, a little too much for the missus, in fact. 'Mione tried a few sips and ended up singing some muggle song at the top of her lungs in the middle of our hotel's lobby!" Ron laughed loudly and Hermione blushed a little, but otherwise ignored the comment, busying herself with concocting the second drink. Ron wiped tears from his eyes. "Whew...you had to be there. It was hilarious! But anyway, it's amazing. You're going to love it!"

After a moment, Hermione finished mixing and handed a glass to each of the two men. "Bottom's up!" Ron said as he clinked his glass with Harry's and then tipped the drink to his lips. Harry followed suit, taking a few large gulps of the pungent liquid. It was certainly strong, the burning sensation on his lips gave proof to that, but it was also quite delicious, possessing a licorice-like flavor with hints of earthy herbs. Harry savored the taste, rolling the remnants of the liquid around on his tongue. Ron had already finished his first glass and was a couple of sips into the second, and Harry could see the potent potables affect starting to take hold of his of light from the bay window were reflecting in Ron's glassy eyes like pyres of pure bliss. His lips had curled up at the edges, leaving him with a daffy and vacant expression on his face, sort of like the fire might have been lit, but the cauldron was empty.

"We have missed you a lot Harry," he said dreamily as he nodded his head in earnest. "It's been strange without you here every weekend." Hermione joined him on the couch, taking her husband's hand in her own. "We really did, Harry," she said sadly. "We were so worried about you. Ron said you seemed down at work and we couldn't help but feel that it was because of us. We should have stood by you. You needed us, and we failed you. I mean, Ginny _is_ Ron's sister so it put us in an awkward position, but we should have been there for _both_ of you, not just her. We were just awful."

Harry's heart sang at Hermione's words. He had imagined this moment, dreamed of this moment for months and couldn't believe his greatest desire was playing out right in front of his eyes. He wanted them to realize how terribly they had treated him; he wanted to know that all that time they had missed him too; that the nights he had spent lonely and crying himself to sleep weren't lost upon them and that they knew how deeply they had hurt him. The only thing that differed from his dreams was his own response to their words. In his dreams, he gave the two of them a verbal tongue-lashing, yelling at them and telling them just how low his life had gotten, that their words and actions had cut him to the bone and he didn't know how long it would take for those wounds to heal.

But with Ron and Hermione in front of him, looking somber yet hopeful, he just couldn't do it. "Guys, water under the bridge, right?" he said with a smile.

After some more apologizing from Ron and Hermione alike, the conversation eventually shifted to lighter topics and happier times. They reminisced about the glory days, their time at Hogwarts, the times since the war. It was crazy that after one dinner, Harry had his old friends back and he felt like the whole Ginny debacle had never happened. He couldn't have been happier; he was happy, he had his friends, and he had Draco.

_Shit! Draco!_

Harry looked at his watch and nearly leaped off of the couch. "I'm sorry to cut this short guys, but I have to get going," he said, his head spinning violently at the sudden movement.

"Already?" Ron slurred.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. Dra...I mean...I'm supposed to be meeting someone." Harry instantly regretted his choice of words.

"Oh," Hrmione said with a smirk. "Meeting someone huh? Is this 'someone' someone special?"

"Maybe."

"Great," Hermione squealed. "Well, will we see you again next weekend?"

"Definitely," Harry replied before hopping into the fireplace and spinning away.

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Draco tapped his fingers on the arm of the sofa impatiently. He had cleaned the flat from top to bottom, all but scrubbing the floors with his toothbrush, and Harry wasn't even there to appreciate it. No, Harry had ran out of the place promising not to be gone long, and it was now nearly seven hours later and Draco hadn't heard a word from him--no owl saying he'd be late, no floo call saying he had been held up, nothing. It infuriated Draco to no end.

But just as he was about to retreat to bed for the night as a way to punish Harry, the fireplace roared and Harry came tumbling out of it, landing flat on his face. Draco smirked inwardly at the small bit of payback, but went over dutifully and helped Harry to his feet.

"Nice to see you," Draco said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Oh Draco!" Harry exclaimed, throwing his arms around the unprepared blonde. The scent of alcohol poured heavily from his mouth, like he had been sucking on a liquor bottle all day. "It's so wonderful! Ron and, and 'Mione apologized and everything is back to the way it was before! Isn't that great!" He swayed drunkenly and his head lolled a little to the side as he waited for an answer.

Draco had a knee-jerk urge to rain on Harry's parade, to spew hateful words that would wipe the sloppy grin right off of his slackened face. He wanted to make Harry miserable again, but he had to remind himself that doing so wouldn't be prudent, that there was a bigger picture and bigger goal he needed to stay focused on. "Yes, that is great," he replied.

And before he could say anything else, Harry leaned in and kissed him, the burning taste of some unknown alcohol nearly making him choke and pull away. But he held his ground, and kissed Harry back, channeling his anger into his lips and tongue, and into his hands as he ripped at Harry's clothes, stripping him naked with such force and fervor he was sure he had ripped some article of clothing in the process. But Harry didn't seem to notice or care, and before Draco knew it, he too was naked and the ebony-haired wizard was kneeling before him, licking and sucking his cock with more skill than a drunken, incapacitated man should have.

Draco's chest heaved and his eyes closed on their own accord, as though not wanting any of the surroundings to distract him from the feeling of Harry's lips wrapped around him. It felt so amazing, so perfect, that after only a few moments he could feel tension beginning to build in his gut and he knew he only had a few moments left. Harry must have sensed it too, because he promptly stopped and stood up, then dragged the beautiful blonde toward the kitchen.

Draco was a little confused by the gesture, but understood immediately as Harry leaned over the counter and gripped the edges, his ass fully exposed and waiting. After seeing that, Draco wasted no time, muttering a quick lubrication charm before slamming into Harry with the force of a Mack truck. The other wizard cried out in pain at the jarring intrusion, but the yells quickly subsided and he easily melted into Draco's fast but steady rhythm, thrusting his hips in perfect measure. And after their synchronicity was perfect, Draco added his hand to the mix, pumping Harry's cock firmly. Harry cried out not two minutes later as he came, spewing hot, sticky liquid down the cabinets.

The sight alone drove Draco crazy and he in turn quickened his thrusting, like a long-distance runner that gets a second wind as he nears the finish. And with one, final driving motion, he pumped into Harry, spilling every last drop of his seed inside the former Gryffindor.

Exhausted, Draco collapsed on top of Harry, out of breath and his skin dripping with sweat, but Harry seemed to welcome it. He grabbed Draco's arm and wrapped it around himself, nuzzling in an close as he could to the man. Then, with a dazed smile on his face, he turned to Draco and whispered, "I love you."

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**A/N: Pretty pretty please review :) It would make me sooo happy :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...I really, really wish I did though...Does that count for anything?**

**Warning: I personally think reading about gay boys is a ton of fun...but if you don't, go elsewhere.**

**P.S.--I had a very rough time with this chapter...I don't like it much (way to make you want to read, right?) It kind of abruptly ends, but I just couldn't write any more folks. Sorry. Next chapter will be better, I promise.**

**But the good news is, the story that I told you guys about before--the S&M one I'm writing--I picked it back up again and the first part should be posted by the weekend. It's gong to be a short one--only 3 or 4 chapters tops, but I think it will be fun! **

**Anyway, here is Chapter 12--Review if you feel so inclined :)  
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Draco walked quickly down the brown, cobblestone street, the cool morning air biting against his flesh. He hugged himself tightly and rubbed his arms in an attempt to warm up, but no matter what he did, his body continued to quake with aftershocks brought on by the chilly breeze. He hated the cold, but his jaunt into town was necessary. He needed to get out of that tiny flat, and with Harry's blessing, he decided a trip to Tunay was in order. The open air and bustling city gave him room to think about everything without feeling claustrophobic, that, and it was also home to the very shoppe he needed to visit.

When he had awoke that morning, Draco was surprised to see that Harry was already up, dressed, and in the kitchen cooking chocolate chip pancakes for the two of them. He seemed in great spirits, which threw Draco for a loop. After the previous night's events, he had expected yelling and tears, not syrup and smiles. Because the night before, with the heat of the moment and the burn of liquor warming his insides, Harry had uttered the unforgivable; not Avada Kedavra or Crucio, but three little, commonplace words that can turn the world upside down when ejaculated from someone's lips—I, love, and you. When said separately they are virtually harmless, but together they possess the power of a thousand tsunamis, ready to smother and drown the innocents that are unfortunate enough to get in the way.

But despite the weight of those words, they were exactly what Draco had been striving for and what he had aimed to hear. He wanted to have Harry wrapped around his little finger, eating out of the palm of his hand, and treating him like sun rose and set around him. He wanted Harry to love him so he could play the Chosen One for a fool and then take him for everything he was worth. It was all part of a greater plan to ensure Draco's financial stability and happiness, so the drunken admission should have been perfect. And it would have been had it not been for one thing—Draco simply was not ready for it. He thought he had weeks, months even, before he would be able to render such a response from the former Gryffindor; he never in a million years thought Harry would succumb to his wheedling so soon. He thought he had time to plan, time to practice a response, time to perfect the persona of a loving, caring boyfriend.

But when Harry said those words, Draco was caught completely off guard. He panicked and responded in his typical, knee-jerk fashion, pushing Harry away with a horrified sneer on his face and telling him to 'fuck off.' He ran into the bathroom, slamming the door for good measure, and stayed in there for a half an hour chastising himself and wondering what he was going to do to fix things. But by the time he had come out, Harry was already in bed, fast asleep. So needless to say, when Harry was chipper and acting as though nothing had happened the next morning, Draco was stunned. He didn't know whether Harry was trying to smooth over what had happened, or if he had been so drunk that he didn't even remember Draco's outburst. But either way, Draco had to do something. It was time for damage control.

He ducked out of the brisk air and walked into Madame Dulce's, a chocolatier on the main street of Tunay. The scent of warm chocolate and roasted nuts assaulted his nose the second the door opened and Draco suddenly felt a warmth and happiness start to course through his body, like an IV drip of the tantalizing confections had been shoved in his arm. It was delicious and sexy and appealing and it reminded Draco of home, or what home should be at least. It should be sweet and full of love, not a place for deceit and sharp tongues and resentment. Draco reminded himself that he too would have that amazing home life some day. It would be hard and and he certainly had a long way to go before he achieved such self-actualization, but he would get there, chipping away at Maslow's pyramid one tier at a time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry paced around his office, glancing up at the clock and desperately willing its hands to move faster. The day was passing slower than cold molasses and he could feel his insides ready to explode with anticipation as he waited for the work day to come to a close. It wasn't that he had anything special planned that evening; not really at least. As far as he was concerned, going home to spend time with Draco was special on it's own. It was reason enough to scale the highest of mountains or swim across the vastest of seas, and it was certainly reason enough to blow work off early, something he was severely tempted to do.

But Harry had to keep reminding himself that just because he was happier than he had been in ages, it didn't mean he could afford to lose his head over it. He couldn't skip hand in hand with Draco, Hermione and Ron off to Never-Never land or the world of bubble-gum dreams and chocolate kisses. He had responsibilities and obligations he needed to devote time to, and he would just have to settle for spending every second that was left over with the ones he loved.

_The ones he loved._

His heart swelled as he rolled those words around in his head. Just months ago he felt like he had no one left, no friends, no family, no love interest to speak of. He was down in the dumps and the effort it took to try to claw his way out was beyond exhausting, so he eventually made the conscious decision to just give up--let the murky depths consume him and swallow him whole. But suddenly, without warning, he was hefted out of that misery and into the blinding sunshine of happiness. He had friends again; real friends that loved him for the kind of person he was, not for _who _he was. And he had Draco. As staggering and incomprehensible as it was, he was in love with the former Slytherin. To Harry, the sun rose and set with Draco. He was charming, intelligent, witty and passionate--everything Harry ever wanted, inexplicably rolled up into one, strikingly beautiful package. Harry was head over heals and he was certain that Draco felt the same way about him--even if he didn't realize it yet.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco kept glancing towards the fireplace as he lit the last of the candles that were clustered on the small, kitchen table. A beautiful dinner of Asiago chicken and spinach orzo was laid out in the best dishware Harry's flat offered and a bottle of champagne was chilling in crystal bowl filled with ice. It had the makings of a beautiful, intimate date at home; the only thing missing was Draco's actual date.

Harry was expected home any minute, so Draco quickly bustled around the apartment, throwing away the take-out boxes and tidying up the kitchen. He had just finished wiping down the counter when the fireplace roared to life and Harry stepped through, a beaming grin on his face.

"Wow," he said, planting a kiss on Draco's forehead. "This is lovely. What's the occasion?"

"Oh, nothing really...Just celebrating life I suppose."

"Well, it's really sweet." Harry pulled out a chair and took a seat, while Draco got to work being the perfect little hostess. The more he sucked up, the better. He needed Harry to believe that he was smitten, that he wanted to be the doting housewife--cooking and cleaning and servicing his lover the way a proper housewife should.

He cringed at the thought of spending eternity indulging Harry's every hope and desire, but reminded himself that it was only a temporary arrangement. He should only have to do it for a few months tops and, if in that time he needed a little assistance with his performance, he still had Gaudium to help him along. Because unbeknown to Harry, Draco had grabbed a couple of packets of the stuff from his drawer the day he left Magical Amity. He hadn't felt the need to use it much his first few days out, but after blowing up at Harry the previous night, he thought a line or two might help keep his wits about him. In smaller doses the drug had a way of leveling his temper, making him feel more in control of his emotions,. And realizing how volatile he could be when left to his own devices, he was gratefully taking any aid that came his way.

Finally, after filling Harry's plate and pouring him a glass of champagne, Draco repeated the process for himself and then took a seat at the opposite side of the table. They both had been famished after a long day of work, so they ate in relative silence, only taking the forks from their mouths long enough to steal quick glances at each other, or for Harry to gush about how amazing everything tasted.

When they finished, Draco cleaned up and led Harry into the living room for dessert. With a flick of Harry's wrist, the fireplace lit up, casting a warm glow around the room. The two of them sat down in front of the dancing blaze, its heat and muted light adding to the already palpable sexual tension in the air.

"Dessert time," Draco breathed. He grabbed a plump, chocolate covered strawberry from the tray behind him and held it to Harry's lips. Harry readily accepted the proffered fruit and bit into it, his eyes rolling back as he savored its sweet taste and sensuality. He seemed lost in the eroticism of it all, not even noticing the dribbles of pink juice that were running down his chin. Harry's eyes clouded with desire and as the last berry was being fed to him, Draco straddled him and tilted his head up. But instead of kissing him, Draco leaned in and began licking every last drop of juice from the other wizard's face.

Harry moaned in response, and although this whole scenario was part of Draco's scheme, he, too, couldn't help but feel immensely turned on by everything that was happening. His cock was stiffening with every labored breath that escaped Harry's lips and his mind began to fill with static, drowning out every thought in his head until only one thought resounded loud and clear--he needed to fuck Harry.

Not wasting any time, he pulled Harry to his feet, shoved him across the room, and threw him on his back on the soft, downy bed. The two of them quickly disrobed and Draco joined Harry, hovering just inches above him, and began ravaging every part of the delicious brunette with his mouth. He kissed and licked and sucked his way from Harry's throat, down his chest, to his soft, pink nipples, pausing a moment to tease them with his tongue and pull them between his teeth until they hardened into tiny little pebbles. Then he moved on, down Harry's ribcage and stomach, until he was directly in front of Harry's cock, in all of its rock hard and lengthy glory.

Draco wasn't sure what had come over him. He of course loved receiving oral sex, but he had never made a habit of giving it. Of course, when he was at Magical Amity he had little choice, he had to do what the johns had asked, but outside of there, he only did it when he thought it furthered his cause. But for some reason, with Harry writhing beneath him, he felt the overwhelming urge to pleasure him. He wanted to watch Harry's face contort in ecstasy; he wanted to hear Harry scream his name and beg for more; and he wanted to taste every last drop of come when Harry orgasmed at Draco's skilled hand.

Draco was somewhat alarmed by this uncharacteristic yearning, but decided to give into it, too horny not to, and took Harry's cock into his mouth. He made quick work of it, his head bobbing up and down the entire length of the shaft while his hands caressed the balls below. Harry cried out and began bucking his hips, pushing himself further and further down the blonde's throat. Draco choked and gagged, saliva dribbling out of the corner of his mouth, but he carried on, bobbing his head faster and harder with every downward thrust.

After a few moments, he could feel Harry's movements begin to stiffen and he knew that the other man was going to come any second. So Draco quadrupled his efforts, moving his mouth and hands in a choreographed dance that left Harry gasping for air and convulsing, before finally exploding and releasing spurt after spurt of warm come into Draco's mouth.

"Oh my God," Harry moaned His head lolled back and forth like his neck was made of jelly and his body twitched with waves of aftershocks as Draco sucked him and lapped up every last drop of his seed. "Oh Draco...That was....amazing."

"I'm glad," Draco said as he sat up and wiped the corners of his mouth. And he really was.

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**A/N: Pretty please review.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter...never will. Doesn't mean I don't wish I did though :)**

**Warning: Gay boys and sex, sex, sex...If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen...or my story I guess.**

**A/N: Yay...update time! So this story is taking a turn from what I originally planned, but that's okay...I think I'm still happy with it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy...and review...AND, if you get the chance and you're as big a perv as me, check out the first chapter of my new fic, 'Safe Word." It's dirty, 'nuff said.  
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Spring and summer came and went, and the cool, crisp air of fall settled in to place. Draco had been at Harry's for months now, six of them to be exact, and he seemed no closer to ditching the man. He had money saved and new friends from Tunay that were willing to help him get on his feet, but when push came to shove, he chickened out, reasoning to no one but himself that he needed just a little more money or just a few more days to prepare--that as soon as the circumstances were perfect, he'd make his getaway.

But for the moment, he'd just have to settle for the way things were. And he couldn't complain, because as far as he was concerned, with the exception of technically being someone's property, the life he was living was an ideal one. He was a kept man. He never had to pound the pavement, looking for that life-changing job he had promised Harry he'd find, because in all honesty, Harry made enough for both of them. And as long as Draco wasn't out selling himself on the streets, whatever made Draco happy, made Harry happy.

As far as housework went, Draco didn't _have_ to cook or clean, but he chose to do so anyway. He found he rather enjoyed both jobs, especially cooking, and he benefited from his work just as much as Harry did. A clean home and a full belly all the time were foreign concepts to him back at Magical Amity and on the streets, and he liked knowing that while he was at Harry's, he'd never have to go without either again.

So with the exception of the time it took to do the housework, the rest of Draco's days, although he found them to be quite lonely, were free for him to do whatever he pleased. He filled his time alone roaming the streets of Tunay, indulging in lavish lunches and chatting up the shopkeepers while he perused their goods. It kept him busy, and that's exactly what he needed.

Some days he literally shopped til he dropped, his arms so laden with packages that he could hardly see where he was going. And on one day in particular, he _literally_ could not see where he was going and ran straight into a street sign. Packages scattered across the dirty cement, muck and clumps of dead leaves, wet from the morning rain stuck to boxes and seeped through paper bags, no doubt ruining the chocolate covered strawberries he had purchased just moments before.

Draco was so frustrated, he balled his fist up tightly and began punching the offending sign, hitting it until his knuckles screamed in pain and the blood from his hand turned the yellow sign a sickening shade of orange. It wasn't his proudest moment, but it did happen to be the moment he met Arabelle.

"Need some help?" a voice had giggled behind him.

"No," he snapped, embarrassed by his outburst and irritated that this girl had seen it all. He reached down and began collecting his packages in silence, willing the girl to just go away. But after his second attempt to stack the slippery boxes failed, she crouched down and began to help anyway.

When the packages were divided up between the two of them, she turned to Draco, her eyebrow slightly raised. "You walked here didn't you?"

Draco nodded.

"Well, guess I'll have to walk you home then. And if you need it, I can help you bandage that hand up."

"Oh, yeah, thanks," he blushed.

Draco hadn't been entirely comfortable with the situation, but what could he say? The girl was simply being friendly and as soon as she was done with her Good Samaritan deed of the day, she would be on her way—no harm, no foul. But still, he couldn't quell the unease that was building in his gut. He didn't like the idea of bringing someone back to Harry's house without his permission, even if it was only for a few minutes, and, he especially didn't like the fact that said person was incredibly attractive.

He hadn't really noticed it at first because the girl's mere presence had been a source of embarrassment and annoyance, but once he accepted her offer of assistance and gave himself a moment to cool down, it ended up being the only thing he _could_ notice. She had long, ebony hair that framed her face in layers of loose waves and porcelain skin as white and luminescent as winter's first snow. Her vibrant, green eyes were clear and piercing, like beautifully cut emeralds, and to top it all off, she had the body of a goddess with long, elegant limbs and curves in all the right places. She was stunning, and although Draco typically found himself attracted to men, he couldn't help but be taken by her.

"Much further?" the girl asked.

"Not at all. Right here in fact," Draco said climbing the stoop to Harry's flat.

"Shut up!" she squealed, stopping dead in her tracks. "_You_ live _here_?"

Draco couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed by her implications. Did he not look classy enough to live in this neighborhood? "Yes, I live here," he snapped.

"You live with Harry Potter?!?"

Draco's eyes widened. The fact that the girl even knew who Harry Potter was had caught him off guard. As far as he knew, he and Harry were the only magical residents for miles.

"I do," he said opening the door and gesturing for her to come in. "Uh, long time friend, ya know...Been staying with him a bit while I....look for work in the area."

"That is so cool," she squeaked. "Guess I can drop the pretense of bandaging your hand up, huh?" She pulled a wand from the waistband of her skirt and pointed it at the wounds. "Vigaratus!" The cuts instantly scabbed over and then faded from existence.

"Thanks," Draco said.

Despite his shock, Draco had been so thrilled to have contact with someone from the wizarding world, that he invited her to stay a bit. They made small talk while he flounced around the kitchen, warming up left over seafood bisque he had made the night before and toasting homemade rolls in the oven. They ate and drank champagne and made cracks about everything from the previously inept Ministry, to the Hog's Head, to Hogwart's teachers. Because, as it turned out, she had attended Hogwarts as well, graduating a few years ahead of Draco.

"So what house were you in, uh....wait, I'm sorry. I haven't even asked your name," Draco laughed.

"Oh, it's Arabelle," she said. "Arabelle Scott--but everyone calls me Bells. And for your information, I was in Slytherin." She smiled and studied Draco. "So go on, what about you?"

"Draco Malfoy," he said sticking out his hand. "Also Slytherin."

"Draco Malfoy, huh? I've heard about you." She shook his hand and smirked in what Draco hoped was playful manner, but he felt his cheeks begin to flush anyway. Had his reputation at Hogwarts preceded him, or had she perhaps heard of some of the more recent things he had been up to?

"All good, I hope." He tugged nervously at his collar.

Arabelle stared off, surveying her surroundings. "Yeah, something like that. So," she said snapping out of her trance, "you gonna give me the grand tour?" Draco laughed; she could pretty much see everything from where she was sitting. But when he pointed that out, she just shrugged it off and took it upon herself to look around. She lifted framed photos off the mantle and studied them, ran her hands over the smooth fabric of the sofa, and inspected the DVDs in Harry's muggle, movie collection. "It's cute," she said. "What are these?" She pointed to the large, screen partitions that separated Harry's alcove and Draco's alcove from the rest of the flat.

"Oh, my room and Harry's room," he responded, thankful that they had separate rooms, even if they were pointless, seeing how Draco rarely used his.

"Let me see!" Arabelle grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the first room, his room. Draco folded the screen back and gave her a quick glimpse inside; his comfy bed, icy grey duvet and black, iron headboard. "Nice," she said. "And do I get to see the Chosen One's room?"

"Well..."

"Oh come on! Don't be a party pooper!" So she dragged him over to Harry's room, folded the screen back herself and stepped inside. And suddenly, for no reason that Draco could see, she spun in a circle, her arms lifted in the air, praising some invisible god, then lost her balance and fell onto Harry's silky, green comforter. She laughed maniacally, passing it off as too much champagne, and refused to get up until Draco came over to help her stand. But instead of standing when he offered his hand, she used it to pull him down next to her and then climbed on top of him, his groin positioned precariously between her straddling thighs.

"Um...sorry...can I get up?" Draco asked nervously. For all he knew this girl could be packing heat and preparing to blow his brains out before stripping the flat of everything of value. Although, given the proximity of their nether-regions and the amount of champagne Arabelle had consumed, he was fairly certain that it wasn't his brains she was thinking of blowing.

"You don't really want to get up now, do you honey?" she purred in his ear. Draco tried his hardest to stay strong, but between his own champagne consumption and the sexy and domineering, self-assuredness of the woman in front of him, he just couldn't will himself to say 'no.' "Come on baby," she said, grabbing his hand and placing it between her legs.

Draco gulped, taking note that this girl apparently thought wearing panties under a skirt was a waste of time. But that indecent gesture was all it took to make what little will Draco had, crumble to floor and get swept under the very bed he was on. So he gave in, allowing Arabelle to strip off his pants and then climb back on top of him, lowering herself onto his cock. She rode him and gyrated her hips with expertise, and Draco bucked his in return, reveling in the sensation of his cock being buried inside of a woman. After so many months of being with no one but Harry, he had forgotten how wet and warm and delicious the opposite sex could be.

In fact, Arabelle felt so good, that Draco began seeing her every week. Once in a while they'd meet at her place, but mostly she came over to his. Sometimes they'd talk and laugh in between fucking; sometimes they wouldn't. It was all very strange to Draco because despite his undefined 'relationship' with Harry, he truly felt bad about what he was doing. It wasn't like Harry had asked for exclusivity--Draco was only his _whore_ after all. But regardless, every time he met Arabelle, guilt punched him in the stomach and knocked the wind right out of him. He'd try to remind himself that he didn't owe Harry anything, and that he was planning on ditching him soon anyway. He'd say that he was lonely and should be allowed to fill that void however he wanted, but hen, later on, after having fucked Harry, he'd feel guilty again and hate himself for being such a jerk. It was a tiring, endless cycle.

But he had been at Harry's a full six months now, and he reminded himself that the guilt would be over soon. Soon he'd have everything he needed to get on his feet, and he's be able to say goodbye to Harry once and for all, and goodbye to all of the conflicting feelings that came along with him. It was only a matter of time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry rushed to the floo the second that work was done, flowers and a bottled of Absinthe tucked under his arm. Draco had been out of Magical Amity for six months, _had been with Harry for six months_, and a celebration was in order.

When he got home, Draco seemed thrilled to see him, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug and littering his face with kisses. Harry laughed and gave Draco the flowers.

"What are these for?" Draco asked.

"It's your half-year anniversary of course! Six months since you escaped Baron for good."

Draco smiled sadly, but quickly perked up again and thanked Harry before setting the table for dinner. They chatted and ate and after Draco cleared the table, they snuggled up on the couch to watch a muggle movie. Harry had never felt so happy in his life. He felt that for once, all of the pieces of the puzzle were finally fitting together, forming a beautiful portrait of what could be. Harry felt so elated, so content, that he poured them each a drink and proposed a toast.

"To happiness," he said raising his glass filled with the jade-green Absinthe, "And to having almost everything a person could possibly want." Draco smiled and clinked their glasses.

"Hear, hear."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco wasn't sure if it was the Absinthe talking or if the things he was feeling were real. All he knew was that his head was spinning and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't wipe the smile off of his face. When Harry had come home with flowers for him, his insides suddenly melted into a gooey, sugary slop. He couldn't even remember how long it had been since he'd gotten a present from _anyone_, let alone from the sweetest, most beautiful man in the world. Harry made Draco feel appreciated, cherished, and above all, loved.

Draco snuggled closer, allowing the warmth and drunkenness to envelop him, and decided to just enjoy his night, give in to his heart and its deepest desires. So when Harry began to kiss him, he kissed back, their mouths and hands so entwined that they stumbled, falling onto the bed in a fit of passion. The kissed and explored each others bodies with hands, then tongues, the heat of it all igniting a flame in Draco that he had never experienced before. He _wanted _Harry, but not in the usual way that he wanted him. He wanted _all_ of the gorgeous Gryffindor, from the tousled locks upon his head, to the very tips of his toes, and everything in between. And it wasn't just the tangible parts of Harry that he wanted, he wanted him mind, heart and soul, because whether or not Draco realized it, he had been falling in love with Harry from the moment they met. From their very first encounter at Hogwarts, Draco knew that there was something inherently special about the man. Harry embodied everything that Draco wasn't; he was good, kind, chivalrous and loving, and although Draco knew he'd never be half the man Harry was, he wanted to try. He wanted to be everything that Harry deserved in a lover, someone that cared for him, watched out for him, and challenged him in ways no one else could.

So without thinking of the repercussions, Draco went with what his gut was telling him and whispered the three words he feared the most, "I love you."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "Really?" he asked. Draco nodded. "Well I love you too," Harry replied. It took everything in his power to not stand up and start doing a happy-dance around the room, but he managed to restrain himself. Instead he channeled his giddy energy into the task at hand, fervently stroking Draco's cock while his other hand caressed every inch of the beautiful blonde's body. And after a few moments, Draco began writhing beneath him, signaling Harry that he was about to come.

Dutifully, Harry rolled over and laid on his back, readying himself for Draco's cock.

"Harry," Draco whispered. "I want you to do it."

"Do what?" Harry asked.

Draco smiled. "I want _you_ to fuck _me._"

Harry was taken off guard yet again. Not once in their time together had he fucked Draco. The haughty, former Slytherin viewed being the receiver as a sign of weakness, something that only the girl in the relationship should be subjected to. And though Harry loved being on the receiving end, he always wondered what it would feel like to be inside of Draco, to play the dominant role for once.

"You're sure?" he asked. Draco nodded and it was all of the encouragement Harry needed. He got back up, spread some lube on Draco's ass and pressed his cock against the man's waiting entrance. He eased himself in slowly, stopping every centimeter or so to allow Draco to get used to the sensation. When he was fully sheathed, he looked up expectantly, and Draco took a few deep breaths and adjusted the position of his hips, before giving the go-ahead.

Slowly at first, Harry began pumping in and out of Draco. But despite the lazy pace, it was the most amazing thing he had ever felt. Draco was so tight, so sensual, so...comfortable. It might have been Draco's declaration of love, or perhaps it was the sudden trust he showed in Harry, but either way, Harry felt like where he was at the moment was exactly where he was supposed to be. He and Draco were meant to be together, emotionally and physically, and he couldn't imagine sharing something so intense, so amazing with anyone else ever again.

After a few more moments of the steady pace, Draco couldn't handle the biting stimulation anymore, and neither could Harry. He began thrusting harder, the quickened speed making bright, white lights pop behind his eyes. And before he knew it, within a matter of seconds, he couldn't handle it any longer and he came, filling Draco with sprays of warm come.

Exhausted, but not one to leave his partner hanging, Harry sat up to grab some toys from his nightstand to help Draco with his grand finale. He leaned over and pulled open the drawer, but as he did, a flash of bright pink caught the corner of his eye. He leaned down for a closer look and pulled the satin fabric out from under the bed. His heart sank and his jaw dropped--In his hands was a thong, a bright pink, frilly, _woman's_ thong.

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**A/N: So...does a slightly longer chapter get me reviews?? I really really hope so :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...just the books, the movies, a sweet hat, a necklace....**

**Warning: Slash...Gay boy slash...it's the bee's knees so it's what I write about. But I'm not gonna lie, this chapter might be a little...violent. So if that makes you uncomfortable, you might want to stop reading here.**

**A/N: Don't hit me...Please! So it's really not my fault, I swear. I moved at the end of last month and the place I moved into supposedly had free WiFi. However, it hasn't been working and they have been trying to get someone to work on it--the problem is, everytime they set up an appointment, the tech people cancel. So right now I am at my parents typing away. And because of this rushed writing session, this chapter isn't as long, and probably isn't as good as some others have been. But hopefully everything will be up and running this weekend folks...then I promise I'll be back in the swing of things. **

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Draco's eyes, which had previously been glued shut in the throes of ecstasy, snapped open, confused as to why his lover had suddenly become as still as the statue of David. But even with his eyes open and sight restored, Draco had a hard time deciphering the look on Harry's face, let alone what had caused it.

Harry looked the perfect mixture of hurt and enraged, like both emotions were fighting for dominance and his head was the ring in which they battled. Pain like none Draco had ever seen flashed through the man's eyes, drawing out salty tears before juking out of the way. Then anger would dig it's claws in, creasing Harry's brow and flushing his skin a hot and prickly pink, only to twirl away yet again, carrying on the strange and confusing dance like a never-ending promenade.

After a few moments of watching the struggle, Draco began to worry. "Harry," he whispered, cupping his lover's cheek. "What's wrong?"

Harry's eyes, crazed and animal-like, flitted up to Draco, looking in his general direction, but not actually _seeing_ him. It was bizarre, the unfocused yet feral expression on Harry's face. It was unlike anything Draco had ever seen before and in all honesty, it scared him. Was Harry in shock? Was it some sort of medical condition? Or was he really just so upset that it was emotionally crippling him? And if that was the case, what had gotten him so upset?

"Harry," Draco said again. He grabbed Harry's shoulders and shook him. "Harry...Snap out of it!" he yelled. "What's wrong?" But Harry continued to sit there, still as can be, his eyes now fixed on some unknown point in the distance.

Tears of anger and frustration and worry began clouding Draco's eyes and before he knew it, his body wracked with uncontrollable sobs. "Please," he choked out. "Please, I love you. Please, what's wrong?!"

As Draco said those words, it was as though someone suddenly flipped a switch in Harry's brain. His eyes blinked and refocused themselves and he shook his head side to side like he was trying to clear away the mind fog. He looked up, his expression no longer angry or upset, but something much worse. He looked...broken.

It wasn't until Harry lifted his hand that Draco saw the scrap of pink that was scrunched between his fingers.

"Does this belong to you?" Harry asked, his voice coming out in strangled rasps. "Well not necessarily to you, but to someone you know perhaps?"

Draco's heart sank to the floor and his first, knee-jerk reaction was to lie, lie, lie. It was what he always did when times got tough or when things were just too difficult to deal with. But no matter how many times he had lied in the past, he just couldn't do it, not now, not to Harry. "Yes," he eventually sighed. "I know who they belong to."

Harry nodded stiffly, then threw the thong to the floor and buried his face in his hands. "Why?" he asked through his tangled fingers. "Are you not happy here? Did you need more money? You could have just asked. I mean, do you like being a prostitute?"

"Well..n-no..." Draco stuttered in surprise. It was just like Harry to assume that Draco's unfaithfulness was out of necessity, not because he was just a miserable excuse for a human being that couldn't keep his dick in his pants. Harry thought too highly of him and it made his next words a million times harder to say. He didn't want to let Harry down. He wanted to be a good man, a loving man, a virtuous man, and all because Harry had believed in him.

Draco had considered himself the scum of the earth, nothing but a pariah, a leech on society, and Harry, the geatest and most wonderful human being to walk the face of the planet, had decided to take a chance on him. Despite his sordid past, present, and future, Harry saw something in him worth saving, and that had given Draco hope.

And even though Draco's reasons for latching onto Harry had been motivated by pure greed, he couldn't deny that at some point along the way, gluttony and malice lost their footing, replaced by the much stronger, more able-bodied emotions of happiness and warmth...and love.

And because of this love, no matter how unexpected or how unwanted it had been, Draco had to tell the truth.

"Harry," he began, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I haven't been...working. I've been seeing someone. The underwear belongs to her." He threw himself into Harry's lap. "I am so sorry Harry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I just...I don't know what's wrong with me. She flirted and I'm so weak I couldn't say no. Please...I know you can't forgive me now...maybe not ever, but please just know that I never meant to hurt you. I...I love you Harry."

Draco looked up, praying for some response, some reaction, but Harry still sat there, a blank expression on his face. "I'm sorry," Draco cried. "Please, please let me make it up to you." He leaned in and kissed Harry's cheek, brushing his lips across the light stubble, then moved down his jaw to his throat, pausing to suck on the warm skin above his collar bone. When this was met with no resistance, Draco decided to push things further, willing to give himself completely to Harry if that's what it took to elicit some sort of reaction from the man.

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Harry continued to sit and contemplate, his mind running laps as he tried to figure out how to handle the situation. Did he push Draco away, or did he allow the man to plead his case? It was all so befuddling, he didn't know how to handle it...That is, until Draco wrapped his warm mouth around Harry's cock. Then of course, his next move became crystal clear.

************************

Draco's head bobbed up and down as he tried to lick and suck some sort of reaction out of Harry. And eventually his diligence paid off. Harry threaded his fingers through Draco's golden locks and pushed against his every thrust, ramming his cock down the beautiful blonde's throat. And Draco took it; not because he particularly enjoyed it, but because he felt he deserved the kind of treatment that was being doled out. He deserved to be punished for messing up the one thing in his life that was good. Harry was nothing short of amazing the past several months and Draco had taken it for granted, so the least he could do was allow Harry to blow off steam in whatever way he saw fit. Draco was the cause of it, so Draco deserved the brunt force of Harry's aggression, whether it was being given verbally, physically, or otherwise.

So when Harry pulled his cock out and flipped Draco onto his stomach, Draco didn't object. He laid there, his breathing labored, his chest constricted like there was a ton of bricks on his back, crushing him into the bed. He was paralyzed--paralyzed by guilt, paralyzed by shame, paralyzed by fear, because even though he could no longer see Harry's face, he could feel the man's hate-filled green eyes boring a hole through the back of his head and it scared him. Anger rolled off the former Gryffindor in tsunami-sized waves, drowning Draco in Harry's sudden flood of fury. He gasped and sputtered, trying to catch a breath of the warm, caring Harry that he knew--even the stone-silent, indifferent Harry from moments before would be preferential to this unknown monster.

But despite his fear, Draco bit his tongue, reminding himself that he deserved Harry's anger and consequentially, whatever punishment came along with it.

Draco's body instinctively stiffened when Harry's cock was suddenly positioned at his entrance. Every muscle tensed and he inadvertently bit down on his tongue, blood leaking into his mouth, filling it with a salty, metallic taste. Draco winced in pain, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him and the scream that danced behind his lips. He wouldn't let Harry see him hurting because despite Harry's current anger, Draco knew it would upset him, and the last thing he wanted to do was cause more pain to the man he was in love with.

But while Draco was busying himself with the best way to handle Harry's emotions, he was suddenly blinded by a pain more excruciating than if he had bit his tongue right off. His entire body burned and seared, the fire spreading and radiating from his filled entrance like an out of control Fiendfyre. It lapped and licked at him from the inside out--blistering his bones and his flesh and everything in between.

Why was it hurting so much? Draco's thoughts were broken and fragmented and he couldn't wrap his mind around anything--nothing was making sense. All he knew was that it hadn't hurt this much before. It was like some unknown force was punishing him. _This is it_, he thought through the haze. _The jig is up...Someone out there realized all of the horrible things I have done and they finally decided to punish me...retroactively._

"Dammit," Harry mumbled. "Loosen up...I can't even move."

And then it hit Draco. He needed to relax. It didn't hurt before because he had been prepared for it. He had been expecting the intrusion and had given himself time to take a deep breath, time to compose himself. But with Harry suddenly hilt-deep inside of him, his unprepared muscles screamed in agony, fighting to push the foreign object out of his body.

Draco closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing, taking long, deep breaths and exhaling deliberately until every bit of air was out of his lungs. Then he concentrated on individual parts of his body, first his arms, then his legs, and imagined the tightly wound muscles suddenly releasing, like coiled springs abruptly set free of some constricting pressure.

He worked on all of his appendages, then moved to the trunk of his body, relaxing his chest, his stomach, and finally his nether-regions. And it worked. As soon as he calmed his entire body, Harry began thrusting, moving in and out of Draco with relative ease. But even though the physical pain had lessened, Draco still felt terrible. It was something he couldn't quantify. He couldn't pinpoint the source of his grief and eventually resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to be able to enjoy a single second of this tryst. He would just have to grin and bear it--anything to make Harry happy.

So Draco closed his eyes and imagined their amazing celebration dinner that seemed to have happened ages ago, not just mere moments before. He focused on how happy Harry seemed when he arrived home with flowers, how romantic it was when they had cuddled on the couch. He was so engrossed in his recent memories that he didn't even notice when Harry began picking up speed, slamming into him with brute force.

Harry pumped harder and faster, gripping Draco's shoulders with such power that his nails dug into the supple flesh, drawing blood. But again, Draco didn't notice. His mind held steadfast to his most recent fond memories, refusing to let his surroundings pop the bubble of happiness he had created for himself. He didn't even notice when Harry finished, or when Harry pulled out and shoved him aside. And he was too lost in his own thoughts to hear Harry's parting words as he shoved out of the room.

"Good riddance."

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**A/N: Please review and help lift my spirits through this dark time in my life...aka...living without internet :)**


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